


Someone to Notice

by EntreNous



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:25:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While training to be a secondary school teacher (and pursuing some rather illegal activities outside of the classroom), Jim Moriarty takes a keen interest in shy, bullied teenager John Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"And the students will turn their essays in here," Mr Miller finished, pointing to the box for completed work. "You can go through the lot of them first, and we'll go over your notes together before deciding on their marks."

"Good," Jim noted absently. He kept from rolling his eyes at the tedious, obvious instructions by fixing them on the lone student who had remained when the others in the last class had rushed off for lunch. 

The boy had lingered there at the same time the past few days as well, Jim remembered. This was just the first time Jim had a chance to stay in the room as well, instead of hurrying off for yet another orientation meeting with his cohort of teaching assistants.

Mr Miller followed Jim's gaze and sighed. "Don't mind Watson," he said in an undertone. He dipped his chin a bit to speak closer to Jim's ear. "I told him he's welcome to study in here when the other students have gone and the library is closed for lunch."

"John Watson, is it?" Jim made a show of peering down at his clipboard to the list of students, though he'd already learned John's surname and one or two other things from his student file besides.

"That's the one. Very kind boy, very sweet, and always does his assignments on time. He's got a great deal of potential, really. I'm encouraging him to think about science or medicine for a career." Miller glanced down as he gathered the stack of essays. 

"Studious sort, eh?" Jim openly regarded the boy sitting at the back of the classroom paging through a large textbook. When the boy looked up, Jim smiled slowly. 

John flinched, seemingly taken aback from the hint of a leer on Jim's face. Then he set his chin and met Jim's eyes with deliberate firmness. 

A little shock of delight surged through Jim. Not averting his eyes, he moistened his lips, flicking his tongue out the tiniest bit as though it were a subconscious gesture. When John's jaw tightened and he looked down at the volume resting on the desk once more, Jim felt his smile widen. 

"Strange he doesn't want to eat with his mates, though," Jim remarked to Miller quietly.

Miller shrugged, looking up from the pile of papers he was riffling through. "Troubles at home, you know. You'll take note how much it can affect their social lives as you continue on with your training. In his case, his family moved here mid-year, and he hasn't made many friends."

"Too shy, I suppose?"

The other man hesitated. "That, yes." His gaze drifted over to land on John. "There are...other issues as well. Teenagers can be so cruel when they sense the slightest difference."

Jim nodded, making sure to fill his gaze full of sympathy as he affected a moue of regret.

"Right, well. I'm off to stop by the headmaster's office. Remember the period after lunch is free as well. So if you'd like to catch up on an errand or get your own work done, I don't mind so long as you've returned a few minutes before the start of sixth-form Literature."

Nodding eagerly, Jim raised a hand in farewell as the senior teacher left.

He glanced back at the boy seated at the rear of the room. When he again caught John's eye, he smiled and sauntered over, his valise in hand.

"Mr Miller said it's all right," John began uneasily, blinking behind his unfashionable glasses as he saw Jim approach. 

"Oh, yes, that's all sorted, don't you worry. I just wondered if you might help me with a problem I have."

"Oh?" John swallowed nervously, eyes darting to the door that Mr Miller had closed behind him.

Jim slipped into the desk attached to John's, opening his valise. "Silly me, I actually packed two sandwiches today. Don't know what I was thinking, except that I probably should have had my tea before making them! I have meetings after classes end, and I don't want the other to spoil. Would you?" He held out one of the wrapped sandwiches to John, keeping his smile innocent and friendly. 

"Oh. Yeah. Okay." John reached out, taking the offering with a slight flush in his cheeks.

"Thanks, you're a pal," Jim sing-songed, opening his lunch and grinning at John when he hesitantly investigated his own.

*~*~*~*~*

Only a week later -- three more shared lunches, three more sessions of John looking wary but increasingly pleased with the _loveliest_ little hint of vulnerability whenever Jim offered him half of whatever he'd brought to eat, claiming it was as easy to make for two as it was one -- Jim turned a corner a few blocks from the school and heard the dull thud of a fist connecting with someone's gut.

Hidden behind the skip at the opening of the alley, he shifted his valise on its strap to rest behind his back and edged closer to view the scene undetected.

"Fucking ponce," one of four boys grunted as he pulled his arm back to land another blow to John Watson's torso. One of his mates laughed, harsh and high, as the third got John in a headlock to keep him in place. 

If Jim blinked, he could see himself in the scene -- the bullied boy, held back by cowards, beaten by his inferiors, brimming with bile and hate and seized with a need for revenge. Though small as a lad and quick on his feet, he'd never had the strength or knowledge to fight back in the normal way. 

So instead he'd plotted and planned his way to settling scores -- a beloved dog found with its throat slashed at the foot of one boy's bed, another's father caught in a petty business scheme and bound for prison. 

They had all got the message eventually.

Though hateful and tedious, he'd always reflected those horrifying moments of fear, being cornered and crushed, had been good for him in the end. They'd set Jim on the path to the man he'd become.

So as he watched John double over in pain, he couldn't help but feel a frisson of anticipation, a spark of keenness to find exactly how John Watson reacted under such pressure. 

He still slipped his mobile out of his pocket and sent the text, of course.

"Trying to go down on your fucking knees already?" the fourth boy taunted. He threaded his fingers in John's fine dark blond hair and yanked hard, pulling him back upright. "Everyone knows how much you love to suck cock, Watson. But too bad for you we're not ready for that part of the entertainment, eh?"

"Fuck you," John spat back, blood mixing with the saliva from his mouth to spray the face of the boy menacing him.

"Oh, _good_ ," Jim murmured even as John's aggressor swore and retaliated with a backhand. 

His phone, again in his pocket, vibrated to let him know his request had been viewed and would soon be answered. No point in looking at the screen; everyone knew he didn't tolerate excuses or regrets. 

Taking a breath, Jim slouched forward, ready to call off the dogs in his role as the teacher's assistant these boys knew him as. 

Except he hadn't counted on John Watson, smaller than all the boys surrounding and jeering at him, obviously outnumbered as he was, actually fighting back.

A sickening _crack_ sounded as John flung his head back hard, connecting with the skull of the boy behind him. His assailant howled in pain and let John loose of his chokehold. The indignant and threatening cries of the other boys echoed his bellow, and the taunting looks on their faces turned vicious. But instead of panicking, John stomped hard on the right foot of the one who had smacked him even as he drew his shirtsleeve across his nose and mouth to wipe away the blood.

He would lose eventually, Jim already knew, with that number of opponents. But Jim could tell with a surge of giddy excitement just how much John would make his attackers regret taking on their lonely classmate.

There was a familiar crunch of footsteps against gravel, slowing and pausing on the pavement behind Jim. He didn't turn to acknowledge the new arrival, just forged ahead into the alley calling out, "All right, all right, stop that at once." 

They recognized him straight away, all of them scowling and taking several steps back. When they drew away with sullen slouches, they left John the bruised and bleeding center of their panting ring. 

"Mr Moriarty," one began. "We were only standing here talking, and all of a sudden, Watson comes round, acting completely mental --"

John spun on his feet, lurching forward toward the other boy before he could finish the lie.

"I said, that's enough," Jim said sharply. John stilled, his head dipping slightly, hands curling and uncurling into fists at his sides.

"Dixon, Anderson, Smith, Platt -- all of you, report to Mr Miller's classroom after school tomorrow for detention." He waved away the four groans and jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he nodded at John. "Watson, come with me immediately so I can deal with you."

One of the boys let out an ugly hiss as they left. 

"I wasn't," John stammered. His previous rush of aggression appeared to drain out of him all at once, leaving him slumped and stumbling. The choke of a sob broke his voice when he tried to continue speaking, so instead he raised his shaking hands to settle the glasses that had been knocked askew on his face. 

Jim guided him round the corner with a light touch to his shoulder, leaving the fading sounds of John's four assailants muttering to one another behind in the alley. "Shh, I know," he said soothingly, gesturing to the path that would take them back to the school. 

Snuffling, John hung his head, still obviously coming apart after the adrenaline-high of his fight. His posture let Jim nod undetected to the nearby man taking a drag of a cigarette as he leaned back with one foot braced against the brick wall. 

_Make it count_ , Jim mouthed as John hurriedly wiped at his eyes and huddled closer to him. Though he gave no visible sign of understanding, Sebastian flicked his cigarette away before turning and making his way into the alley.

"It's all right, you're all right now," Jim crooned when John stumbled and he got to clasp an arm around those shaking shoulders in a gentle hold. He supported him as they walked toward the school buildings together. Distantly behind them, there was a surprised shout, and then the faint sound of yells of pain mixed with panic. "I'll fix you right up, okay?"

*~*~*~*~*

"Feel free to leave anytime you like, Mr Moriarty," the nurse said in a brusque voice as she dabbed at the bruise on John's cheek. "I can see to Watson on my own, obviously."

He smiled, leaning against the wall and keeping his eyes on John. "I don't mind staying for a bit. I thought Watson and I might have a little chat after you've finished patching him up."

She sent Jim a sharp look, shifting slightly so that her body blocked his view of John's lovely anxious blue eyes and the purpling marks on his bared chest. She'd taken a dislike to Jim long before this encounter, despite him working at the school only a few weeks and generally managing to charm every other staff member he met.

Clever bird.

"We'll have to call your parents, of course," she muttered as she prodded John's abdomen and then his back. His unbuttoned shirt hung loosely about his slim torso, streaks of grime from the alley altercation marring it. 

"Don't!"

Both Jim and the nurse paused to look at him.

"I only meant...you don't have to," John added hastily. "I'll tell them myself." He glanced at Jim in mute appeal and adjusted his glasses. 

"School policy, I'm afraid." She clucked over the bump on his head once more before fetching a small cup of water and a tiny packet of paracetamol. "Someone will have to inform them you've been fighting."

"Couldn't Mr Moriarty do it?" John asked. He took the pills and swallowed them without fuss. 

"Unfortunately your Mr Moriarty hasn't the authority," the nurse commented. She turned over her shoulder to send a simpering smile Jim's way. When he returned it with a leer of his own, she frowned and directed her attention back to John. 

John sat hunched over, looking more defeated now than he had done during the worst of the fight. 

"Now remember, you'll head to the A&E at once if you have any of those symptoms we talked about." She leaned down to tap at a keyboard, finishing filling in what seemed a standard form on the computer screen. "One of the senior instructors will call your parents, so they'll be well aware of the situation soon. Off you go."

John slid off the examination table, turning halfway in a fruitless bid for modesty to button and tuck in his dirtied school shirt once more. 

Before the nurse could leave the room, however, Jim clenched his hand around her upper arm. "I just wanted to ensure," he said, his voice lowered decorously though certainly at a level John could still hear, "that Watson's parents are given to understand he only acted in self-defense. I feel quite certain he would never have been caught out fighting had those other boys not started trouble for him." 

She stiffened in his hold. "Your remarks will be included in the report, of course."

"Thank you," he said, widening his eyes in pretense of gratefulness. "Might Watson and I use your room to have a word?" He let out a self-conscious laugh. "I wouldn't normally ask it of you, only I don't have my own office here, obviously. I do think it would help the boy to have a sympathetic ear before he has to go back home and face his parents about this little dust-up."

Had John not been nearby, he had no doubt she would have refused summarily. As it was, she seemed reluctant to object outright in front of a student, saying only, "Ten minutes," before clicking the computer mouse to shift away from her report to a password-protected entry screen. 

Jim waited until the door clicked shut behind her. 

"You okay?" he said softly, taking a step toward John. 

John shrugged, grimacing a moment later as his sensitive contusions no doubt reminded him of the pain. 

"Quite a lump you got there," Jim murmured. One more step. Another. He stood quite close to John now. When he lifted a hand to trace his fingertips over the protrusion on John's head, John let out a shaky breath. 

"I'll be all right once the paracetamol starts to work." John held absolutely still while Jim stroked feather-light touches through his hair, gliding gently over his scalp around the swelling. 

Jim leaned in to caress further down, skimming along the soft skin behind the shell of John's ear. John's eyelashes fluttered, half-closing. 

"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" Jim whispered, smoothing his hand along the nape of John's neck.

John's eyes flew open as he jerked back slightly. "I didn't start it --" He'd said as much several times while the nurse had recorded his answers to her inquiries in her report.

"No, of course not." Jim moved back with care so it seemed a casual change instead of a rejection. "But you would have made them sorry they treated you that way, hmm? I only thought, well, if someone had a hand helping you learn to defend yourself, I'd like to tip my hat to them."

John licked his lips, looking at Jim with a wary and appraising eye. "My uncle," he said finally. "The last time I visited -- we go there, summers, my sister and me -- he noticed there were some boys who..." A flush rose to his cheeks. "Anyway, he said I should have some tricks up my sleeve." 

"So you should," Jim agreed, delighted. When John smiled slightly, bashful, Jim went on, "Look into the self-defense courses they've got at the community centre -- you have good instincts, and you obviously learn quickly. Why not keep it up?" He waited a beat before adding, "Unfortunate, but some of us in particular have to make sure we can hold our own in those sorts of situations."

The boy's eyes widened; Jim had no doubt he'd drawn the conclusion Jim had led him to. Obviously determined not to seem flustered by this clue, John pressed his lips together and gave a resolute nod. "I reckon I could."

"Good lad." Jim still stood close enough to muss John's hair, so he did so, lingering in the touch for a moment before pulling away. "Off you pop," he advised, turning to take a seat in front of the nurse's computer.

John paused at the door. "Should you -- is it okay if you just use that?"

Jim spun round in his chair, giving him a wide smile. John had reacted just as Jim had thought he would. Obviously it was best to start small with these little transgressions. "Oh, of course. They're all networked; I'm just checking my email to see if Mr Miller had any instructions for me."

"Okay, good." John's relief shone in his expression hefted his backpack onto his shoulder. "Still, I don't think Mrs. De Quincy would be too keen to share it with you."

"Right you are," Jim agreed. "But she's gone out for a cigarette and won't be back for at least five more minutes. So what she doesn't know..." He smiled mischievously, wriggling his fingers above the keyboard. 

John swallowed before smiling back. "Thanks again, Mr Moriarty," he said softly as he slipped out the doorway. "For helping me, I mean."

"Any time, John," Jim told him kindly.

As soon as the door snicked shut, Jim cracked his knuckles. After easily picking out the password, he clicked through a few folders before retrieving the memory stick from his pocket. Running the code and retrieving the files he wanted took mere moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for this [kink meme prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21697.html?thread=126094785#t126094785), and partially posted there. I have since revised the portion of the story already shared, and will post all subsequent installments only on AO3 and LJ. Many thanks to wesleysgirl for the beta.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Jim spotted three of John's attackers shuffling between classes. The lot of them were bruised and swollen all over. One glared out of two black eyes, another winced with a gasp when someone nudged at his ribs, and the last kept touching the hard cast encasing his lower right arm. Whenever Jim caught sight of them throughout the day, he saw they kept their eyes downcast, muttering resentfully when their peers prodded them for details about their injuries.

Jim sighed happily. He so loved seeing the results of a job well done. Best add to Sebastian's pay for that week; bonuses were such marvelous incentives. 

The fourth lad stayed away from school two days before Miller, almost as an afterthought, handed Jim a note to explain the absences. The boy had withdrawn, a vague medical excuse serving as the only rationale on the official form. 

Jim would have felt utterly elated by the results had not John Watson also turned up that first morning with bruises around his wrists that hadn't been there the afternoon before. 

It was when Jim passed by in the corridor that he saw John reach up to his locker. The sleeve of his shirt slipped down to expose finger-shaped discolorations. Even from across the corridor Jim he could see a few of the dark blotches were capped by half-moon scabs of fingernail markings. 

Later, Jim slipped into John's chemistry class to deliver a memo. He found the bureaucratic disorganization of the school _such_ a boon; passing meaningless fabricated messages between instructors provided him with ample excuses to go almost wherever he pleased. 

Just inside he saw John holding himself gingerly, biting his lip in pain when his back inadvertently touched the chair where he sat. So aside from John bearing the marks of his da grabbing him far too hard, he most likely sported his father's belt marks on his back as well. 

"All right?" Jim asked in a low voice later during John's afternoon class with Mr Miller. 

John gave him a jerky nod and tried a smile. But the sheen in his eyes betrayed how overwhelmed he felt at someone actually asking after him. Brave little thing. Jim let his hand rest lightly on John's right shoulder for a moment, allowing a worried look to pass over his face before he nodded and moved away.

*~*~*~*~*

"Will Watson's parents come in for a meeting this week or next?"

A high-pitched giggle sounded from the corridor outside, muffled by the closed classroom door.

At Jim's question, Miller looked up from the instructor's edition of poetry he was jotting notes in. "No, the phone call alone should suffice this time, at least as far as the school is concerned. Of course, parents often request meetings when something of this nature happens. But Watson's didn't." His gaze swept over Jim. "While we're on the subject, thanks again for your help with the incident. I don't like to think how far it might have gone had you not chanced upon that little scene."

"Sorry to make more work for you, by the way," Jim told him, shifting from foot to foot in a nervous fashion. 

"The detentions, you mean?" Miller took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Don't concern yourself there. That lot is in for detentions often enough as it is. It was certainly the appropriate response to what they'd done."

"They won't be suspended, then?"

Miller frowned. "Not this time. I extended their detentions to last all next week, though." 

"That's something, I suppose." 

Miller gave him a shrewd look. "I spoke to Watson during his lunch about what happened to hear his side of the story."

Jim nodded, his eyes wide. "Wasn't that in the report?"

The teacher huffed. "You'd be surprised at what does and doesn't make it into those little write-ups. You've gained yourself an admirer, incidentally. It seems Watson feels he has quite the champion in you." 

"Oh. Well." Jim shrugged to convey a shade of pleased embarrassment. 

Miller hesitated before speaking again. "Only -- and this is something I hate to bring up, particularly when you've obviously been kind to the boy -- but do have a care."

Jim bit the inside of his mouth to hide his smile, instead looking up sharply with an air of confusion. "But shouldn't I step in when I come upon a situation like Watson's?"

"No, no, you were absolutely right in that case." Miller straightened a stack of papers atop the desk, apparently pausing to choose his words deliberately. "Believe me, I have all the confidence in the world in you based on your excellent training and our interactions. Just from watching you deal with the students, I trust you've behaved appropriately at every step. Truthfully, a boy like Watson could use a champion or two." He gave Jim a small smile before growing somber. "But there are occasionally mistrustful reactions to instructors behaving familiarly with students. Now, I've noticed the two of you have shared lunch a time or two alone --"

Jim parted his lips slightly as if in surprise. "Oh, that?" 

"Harmless, I'm certain. But please understand, you are at the start of your career, and haven't yet seen how even the smallest of friendly gestures can be misinterpreted, either by the student or by observers. Though I applaud your thoughtfulness, I wouldn't want for anyone to cast suspicion on you."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Jim admitted, casting his eyes down for a moment.

Miller's smile was full of sympathy. "You shouldn't have to, really. But the world being what it is, I do hope you'll keep in mind what I've said."

"Yes, of course. Thank you. For telling me."

"Do _encourage_ students like Watson, obviously. I appreciate how the line between what's appropriate and what's not can seem confusing sometimes."

"No, I understand." Jim gave him a sheepish grin. "I wouldn't want anyone to perceive anything improper. Besides, I wouldn't want my girlfriend to have to hear any strange rumors about something like that!"

"Ah." Miller's entire expression changed and his demeanor relaxed considerably. "You -- I didn't realize, not that it's any of my business."

"One of the other assistants," Jim said. "We hadn't wanted to tell anyone, only because we've just started seeing each other recently."

Miller nodded, obviously aiming for neutrality. But Jim could see he looked rather relieved. A girlfriend might easily explain away any little misgivings about Jim's interactions with John Watson should anyone care to ask questions. 

"You may have met her," Jim said, giving a smile that he knew looked both bashful and proud. "The chemistry teaching assistant, Molly Hooper?"

*~*~*~*~*

"Hi," Jim sang out as he slipped into the seat beside Molly Hooper in the teacher's lounge. She sat alone, as she usually did.

"Oh, hello, Jim." She flushed as she bit her lips, her eyes flickering quickly to his chest, his mouth, his eyes, and then to the floor. "Did you get everything you wanted from Mrs Flanders?"

"The chemistry teacher, you mean? Oh, that's right! I forget sometimes which senior instructor you assist." He shuddered comically. "She's a stubborn old bird, isn't she? Wouldn't let me glance at those attendance sheets Mr Miller wanted without getting everything signed in triplicate!"

"Oh, yes, that's exactly who I work with. I thought maybe you saw me when I watched you come in to the classroom earlier." She gave a stilted laugh. "I would notice anyone who came in, of course. I didn't mean I was keeping an eye out for you or anything." Her eyes widened slightly. "Not that you would think that, obviously --"

"Take a breath once in a while, love," Jim advised. He grinned at her and she smiled back nervously.

He leaned back in his chair and pulled out his marked up copy of _Daniel Deronda_ and a pen, squinting in concentration at the open page. After a pause, she went back to the exams she'd been marking.

Finally she broke the silence. "Plans for the weekend?" The last word ended on a squeak and she flinched. 

"Hmm." He underlined a passage and closed the book. "I thought I might take my new girlfriend out for dinner."

"Oh!" Her face fell. "Of course you -- I -- that sounds lovely." She forced a bright smile. "I hope you have a wonderful time!"

He leaned close and nudged her. "So. Are you free for dinner Friday? Because I'd really love to take you out."

It took a moment for the penny to drop, but when she blushed this time, she smiled as well. "Really?"

"Aren't I presumptuous?" Jim tutted at himself. "But I'm never any good at going slow at these things. Still, I suppose I ought to ask you if you're seeing anyone else before I barrel ahead!"

"Well, I am free, as it happens. Friday, that is. And just in general. I mean --" She pressed her hand to her mouth. 

"Brilliant!" He reached into her shoulder bag and took her phone without permission. Of course she hadn't any security lock on the screen, the little goose. 

While he tapped in his number and information and then exchanged it for his own mobile to do the same with hers, he could see her smiling awkwardly to herself. Poor thing probably could hardly believe her luck. 

"I'll phone you," he promised before he backed away. 

When he sauntered out, he could still feel her big eyes trained on him. At the door, he gave her a smile so he could watch her eyelashes flutter. There was just something so marvelous about a really easy mark.

*~*~*~*~*

Jim stood at his regular bus stop for a few moments before he made an exclamation and patted down his pockets.

It took five minutes to walk to a nearby chip-and-pin machine, and from there another minute to arrive at a different bus stop.

Once aboard the next bus, he worked his way through the crowded interior, stopping at last near the rear. 

"Oi, watch it," the man with his military haircut beside him said when a wide turn sent Jim swaying against him.

"Whoops, sorry about that!" Jim gave a brief smile before pulling his book out of his coat. 

Three more stops went by. The passengers around them changed, forcing Jim and the man next to him to shuffle along together to accommodate those departing and arriving. 

"You'll have the leads checked out by Friday," Jim murmured.

Sebastian ran a hand over close-cropped blond hair absently. As he drew his hand away, he touched his jacket's breast pocket in subtle acknowledgement of where Jim had slipped in the memory stick earlier.

A group of girls boarded at the next stop, chattering and drawing everyone's attention with their brash antics. One winked ostentatiously at Jim before screeching a laugh to her friend. He ducked his head with the most flustered smile he could muster.

"Who's the boy?" Sebastian asked after the bus had driven through four intersections. 

"Never you mind that for now. I expect a report Saturday night. Usual place."

"Not Friday?"

"Ugh, would _love_ to have our little chat then, but thing is, I've got this date with a lovely girl called Molly." Jim rolled his eyes. "But you better get the leads by Friday anyway, or Daddy will be very put out."

A quiet chuckle was his only reply. Sebastian would know the rosters of the school's teachers and assistants as well as him; no doubt he'd matched the name to the person. "Wonder what she's got that you need?" Sebastian muttered to himself.

They shifted apart when a woman near them hefted to her feet to depart grasping her multiple packages. As the bus resumed its route and turned down a different road, they drew back together subtly. 

"Another thing. There's an address there along with those files. Home of a David Watson. Have someone at that house round the clock until I say otherwise. Are we clear?"

Sebastian's eyes lifted to focus on the advertisement banner above them. He grunted. 

When Jim disembarked from the bus, he didn't bother to look back.

*~*~*~*~*

"Are we -- sorry, I just was thinking -- did you --" John Watson stopped, swallowing.

Jim put down the stack of books he held and took a moment to look baffled so he might enjoy watching the bob of John's Adam's apple in his throat. "Sorry, what?" he asked at last.

"I just." John swallowed again. He squared his shoulders, obviously determined. "It's been a few days, and we usually have lunch. You're probably busy, I know, I -- only wondered."

"Oh, yes." Jim let his lips take the shape of a small frown and tapped his lower lip with his fingertip in thought. 

Truthfully, he was impressed John had held out for this long. He'd noticed the small flashes of confusion and longing looks whenever Jim had rushed out the classroom instead of staying behind with his usual offerings for the two of them. It made Jim the _teensiest_ bit disappointed that John hadn't broken earlier, but pleased all the same to see John could control his impulses and hold himself back as well. "Just a moment, okay?"

Jim made an elaborate show of looking round the empty room before going to the door and shutting it quietly. When he turned and leaned against the wall, he found John watching him anxiously. "Why? Did you miss me?" he asked _sotto voce_. He gave John a slow sure smile.

John's lips parted. He seemed not to know how to respond.

Jim sighed as he made his way back to the desk where John sat. "I like having lunch with you whenever I can, John. It's just apparent not everyone thinks it's okay when an assistant teacher spends time with a student, if you catch my meaning. Have to consider my job and all." He lowered his gaze for a moment before he glanced at John once more.

"Oh!" John's cheeks pinked, and his expression quickly turned miserable. "I didn't even think of that. I wouldn't want to get you in any sort of trouble."

"As if you could want such a thing," Jim crooned. He sobered quickly and added, "I spend my free period in the teacher's lounge these days. Dreadfully boring company. Puts me right off my lunch, to tell you the truth." Then, just like a performer revealing the last step of a magic trick, he reached into his valise and pulled out a sandwich with a flourish, handing it to John. "I don't suppose you could help me out. I hate for it to go to waste!"

John laughed, shaking his head as he reached for the sandwich to unwrap it. 

"Well, must be off," Jim said lightly as he got to his feet. "Just remember, John," he added, making sure he caught John's eye before he finished. "I'd always rather spend time with you if I could."

"Thanks," John said faintly.

Jim very nearly made it out the door before John cried out, "Wait!" 

He turned with a politely inquisitive look on his face.

"What's this?" John asked hesitantly. He held out the flyer Jim had folded inside the sandwich wrapper.

"Oh, that? Just an advert for a coffee shop I like to go to on Sundays after lunch. Lovely little place to get some reading done. I never notice any of the school's students or teachers there, though. Must be a bit off the beaten path!"

John nodded, staring down at the paper and the information. "Looks nice," he managed.

"Oh, it is; you'd love it. I often think of you when I'm there. Sundays," Jim repeated before he left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

John arrived ahead of Jim the first time they "accidentally" met for coffee. 

He'd stationed himself in the corner with the smallest and no doubt cheapest coffee on the menu. His eyes were technically trained on his maths textbook but regularly wandered over to watch customers pace over the shop's threshold and pause at the counter. 

After a staged double-take and a pleased wave from his place in line, Jim brought round a plate piled high with pastries. He laughed and pretended shock when John (after an initial polite refusal or two) easily ate his way through most of them. 

Following a bit of stammering and smiling, they each took up their work. Jim leafed through his stack of essays, twirling a red pen in between dashing off comments, while John seemingly returned his attention to his book. 

Every so often Jim would look up to find John watching him. In the rest of their time there that day, Jim was quite sure John didn't turn more than three pages. 

When at last Jim stood to leave, he bent down and leaned in close to brush a bit of icing sugar from John's chin, very nearly sweeping the pad of his thumb against the underside of John's lower lip.

It was a picture he played in his head a number of times during the week that followed: John's head tilted up to look at him, faint stain of blood darkening his cheeks more and more as the seconds passed, pupils blown wide in those pretty blue eyes, his tongue darting to touch the corner of his soft sweet mouth. 

If Jim had only let himself aim a bit higher, if John had been only a little bolder, how easily Jim's thumb might have slipped further over those sharp little teeth, slid inside that pink wet.

The second time they met at the coffee shop, Jim stalled his entrance a full forty minutes after his previous week's arrival time. 

From the charity shop across the road he sent a few pointed texts to key contacts while he watched the door opposite. He spotted John twice leaning partway out to peer at the passers-by. After half an hour John actually left to take up watch from the pavement, leaving his coat inside (he huffed on his bare hands to warm them in the cold air), pacing the short distance away from the entrance so he might glance around the corner. 

At last Jim walked up, fiddling with his iPod until he reached the door. When he looked up and spotted John, all nervous anticipation and relief on his expressive face, Jim hurried forward with a delighted laugh. 

That day John insisted on paying for Jim's triple espresso. He squared his shoulders in determination and thrust crumpled notes and a handful of coins at the lad at the register to cover their order while Jim exclaimed he mustn't, really. 

Jim left that day with a squeeze to John's shoulder. John blushed but met his eyes steadily, and so Jim let his fingers trail lightly over the warm bare skin just above the collar of John's jumper before he drew his hand away.

*~*~*~*~*

"We've located more of the suppliers," Sebastian began when Jim stalked into the room.

Jim whirled to face him, rage contorting his features. He rushed up to him and grabbed the lapels of Sebastian's fitted shooting jacket. "What the _fuck_ do you think you're playing at? Two weeks ago you only had a handful from the leads. I wanted all of them done last week. Now you tell me you're still searching? You should have found every last one by now!"

Sebastian watched him coolly, standing with his posture alert but relaxed and making no move to shrug Jim off or shove him back. "We're nearly there. But a few of those involved have pulled up stakes. Others have gone to ground. If we pushed any harder and moved any faster, we'd scare the rest off entirely. You know how this works."

With a put-upon sigh, Jim raised his eyes to the ceiling and took three measured steps backward. He smoothed the lapels of his fine designer suit in a gesture of calming himself. "One day. One day I will have competent people around me who will perform the simplest of tasks I ask without such wretched failures." 

"Here's all the information we've gathered so far." Sebastian carefully laid a thick folder to the right side of the glass table stood next to him. "Over here are the latest reports on David Watson and family." At the last two words Sebastian quirked his eyebrows ever so slightly and tossed a much slimmer second folder to the left of the first.

Jim frowned at him. He moved closer and reached out for the folder on the right before pausing. Meeting Sebastian's steady stare, he wriggled his fingers over his intended goal in a show of indecision. As Sebastian remained impassive, Jim jerked one hand away and reached with the other to snatch at the left folder. 

"Awww, would you look at that?" he cooed a moment after diving in to read about _Pere_ Watson and his clan. "Ordinary people, so _predictable_! Of course the father's a drunk -- and the daughter well on her way, according to this. Ah, she's practically the town slag already, and her so recently arrived in the neighborhood! Quick work, that. Oh, _has_ dad lost his job already? Awkward, given that's why the family moved to a new town in the first place." He flipped a few more pages, scanning the contents rapidly. "Illegal firearms in the downstairs cupboard, well! That can't be safe with so much drink in the house." 

Sebastian leaned in, resting his weight on the knuckles of both hands against the glass. "We've been very thorough."

"Mmm, looks it." Jim fished out a photograph of John's mum looking harried as she trudged past a group of chattering neighbors.

"But I don't see what any of this has to do with the current operation. Do you want to bring me up to speed?"

"No," Jim said sharply. He turned another page. "Aww, the mother works two jobs, taking all the extra nursing shifts she can. Too bad she returns home only to find her husband's guzzled away her pay down at the pub -- oooh, or worse, at home alone. They always say the nastiest cases hide it from their not-so-loved ones, don't they?" He clucked his tongue. 

"John Watson is their son," Sebastian said after a moment. "He's the boy you walked away with that day at the alley."

"Never let it be said you're above stating the obvious." Jim smiled, watching Sebastian from hooded eyes.

Sebastian leaned against the wall, his hands slipped into his jean pockets, waiting for more. Had it been anyone else prying, Jim would have dismissed them at once.

"A good organization is always recruiting, Sebastian; you know that better than anyone."

"That kid? Seems like more time and effort than anyone would normally spend on a grunt."

"It would be," Jim murmured, drawing out a long-range lens photo of John leaning out his bedroom window. The detail wasn't the best by any stretch, but even if Jim couldn't see John's expression precisely, the pose alone spoke of loneliness. "If he were going to become anything so ordinary as a _grunt_." 

He looked up and glared at Sebastian. "Don't even think of making assumptions about what I want. And don't you dare fucking question me."

Sebastian gave a single clipped nod in acknowledgement. He looked calm as ever, but Jim could see the small twitch in the little finger of his right hand. Message received. 

Jim rolled his eyes and grinned. "Oh, I can't stay angry at you, not with all of these lovely bits and bobs you've brought me! Well done." He let the smile slip from his face. "But work out the rest of the suppliers. You have three days." 

"Meanwhile, you want us to keep the surveillance going at full level at the David Watson house."

"Did I say otherwise?" Jim took a seat on the couch with his folder, waving his hand in an impatient gesture for Sebastian to leave. 

"Oh, Sebastian," he called out when the other man had reached the door.

Sebastian paused, not turning.

"Make sure no one lays a hand on John Watson, or there'll be hell to pay." When Sebastian glanced back at him, Jim returned his look impassively. "That's all."

*~*~*~*~*

"This is really nice." Molly smiled as Jim pulled out her chair at their table next to the window.

"It's actually not," Jim replied with a careful shade of cheer in his voice even as he grimaced at the dingy little Thai restaurant he'd taken them to. "But I'm so glad _you_ like it."

"Well, it's not as though we get much in the way of a salary just yet while we're working as assistants. So I don't mind eating at little spots like this. Besides, I think it's lovely just being here with you." Her cheeks flushed.

Jim smiled bashfully at her before he hid his exasperation behind the open menu. 

This was ostensibly their third date. It probably wouldn't have gone on quite this long had Sebastian been quicker about his work. Well, that and Molly Hooper was proving a tougher nut to crack than Jim had anticipated.

The first round had gone very well indeed. She'd been equal parts thrilled and stunned that he'd asked her out for dinner in the first place. As she adjusted her posture and conversation in little ways throughout the evening to keep up in the directions he led her, he felt sure she'd prove useful in a short period of time.

The second time she'd invited him back to hers. "Just to talk," she'd offered hastily when he widened his eyes and wondered aloud if they weren't moving a bit fast for such an early stage of their relationship. He'd had high hopes for that night -- not for getting into her knickers but for going through her flat. But she'd kept at his side the entire time they were sat in front of her television together, turning that adoring gaze on him and plying him with beer and snacks. He hadn't a moment to sniff through her things or lift her keys. 

After that, he decided to try his luck with her at the school. Whenever he dropped by her classroom after class hours to make conversation and flirt, she certainly seemed excited. But she wasn't quite eager enough to leave him alone in the room even when he professed he was dying for a cup of tea and whinged for her to fetch him one. She'd giggle and stammer about Mrs. Flanders being so strict before leaving with him, locking the door behind them both before shyly slipping her hand into Jim's. So Jim began to feel increasingly put out he hadn't been handed the chance to have a go at the locked cabinets and encoded computer files with her gone. 

Oh, he could have drugged her easily to get a chance at the information he needed. Certainly he might have had someone break into her flat to turn it over for anything useful. With the overall lax security in the building, he could likely easily have Sebastian or another one of his little helpers ransack that bitch Flanders's classroom without much trouble. But those sorts of maneuvers were just terribly _obvious_ \-- fine if he wanted to cut and run, not so clever if he needed to stay in the picture and play nice for a time yet. 

As long as he wanted to keep his cover as a teacher's assistant, as long as he needed to wait for Sebastian's crew to turn up more suppliers and informants, he had to grit his teeth and do things the slow way.

Besides, having Molly eat lunch with him, giggling and blushing and listing closer to him whenever possible, had gone quite a way in getting the others to treat Jim as one of the gang. Oh, he'd charmed most of them well before that. But now they _relaxed_ around him, which he was finding infinitely more useful for his purposes. 

"What do you think you'll have?" he asked, lowering the list of specials to find her gazing at him. Christ, she was like a character from a Mills & Boon novel; he could practically see the stars in her eyes.

"It all looks so good," she said, ducking her head a little. "Actually, I was just thinking…I wouldn't mind if we got take away instead." 

He tilted his head, weighing the options as he watched the flush on her pale cheeks creep down her throat to form an unflattering splatter of color along her collarbone. Perhaps it would be best to follow her home like a little puppy dog tonight if he could advance matters a little. 

Oh, maybe he couldn't drug her to put her out cold for a day, or get rid of her entirely just _yet_. But surely he could slip a little something in her tea to make her slightly woozy while they were watching a film. That way he'd gain at least an hour while she was in a state of confusion she wouldn't remember later. He could go through papers that she no doubt left lying about, pop out to copy her classroom keys, and figure out what role she might play in the last stages of his plans. Afterward he could slip away, leaving a note claiming he'd tiptoed out when she'd fallen asleep. 

Then he'd be gone, with no need to carry out the ruse of taking her to bed (or find himself forced to undertake some nearly as distasteful substitute activity). Later on, he'd easily find a way to deflect her awkward suggestions for more private get-togethers. Really, she was enamored enough that it would take little effort to keep her hopeful, at his side, and helpfully defusing questions from the senior staff by way of her round-eyed sickly adoration. 

If all went well, in a few weeks they'd wrap matters up at the school and leave town. Poor Molly would just have to find some way to nurse her broken heart, no doubt with liberal applications of cheap chocolate and cuddles with her nasty little cat.

Realizing Molly was beginning to look uneasy at his delay in answering, he laughed and leaned closer. "Take away? Why, Miss Hooper," Jim murmured, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

She giggled. "Maybe just a bit." When he bit lightly at her knuckle, she gave him a shocked but pleased look before turning her head to the side to hide her wide smile.

Suddenly she gasped and snatched her hand back, apparently having caught sight of something upsetting out the window.

Jim turned to follow her gaze and saw John Watson, frozen where he stood on the payment outside and watching them with a devastated expression. As soon as Jim's eyes met his, John startled and ran.

"Oh no, do you think he'll say something to someone at the school?" Molly fretted. "I don't really know what the actual policy is on dating other assistants or instructors if he decides to tell one of the administrators. I mean, I'm sure it's fine! I've told Mrs. Flanders. And Wendy, who's the assistant for Maths. And my mum. Oh god. Not that I've told everyone we're seeing each other! But we probably shouldn't let any of the students see us, don't you think? Anyway, I just wouldn't want to get you in trouble." She wrung her hands.

"I'd better go have a chat with him." Jim was already out of his seat pulling on his coat, but he paused for form's sake just a moment to show her he was torn. "I'm so sorry about our plans. But poor Watson's been _such_ a target for the crueler boys at school lately, and I've tried to show him he can rely on me for support. I'd hate to let him run off all alone like that. What if --" He sighed, in part to cover the fact he'd already begun to back away. "All right if I ring you tomorrow?"

She nodded, reluctant but sympathetic. "Probably for the best. He looked really upset." Her eyes went soft as she watched; she seemed impressed that he'd taken such an interest in one of their students. "Though I hate to see you leave, I'm really glad you're going after him."

"I knew you'd understand." Already edging toward the room's exit, he blew her a quick kiss and dashed off.


	4. Chapter 4

Jim raced outside of the restaurant and scanned the area, trying to determine the route John had taken when he had seen Jim with Molly and bolted. 

A moment later he spotted John hurrying along as he turned a corner, and broke into a run to catch up to him. 

"Hey!" he called when he got close enough. John walked quickly on just as though he hadn't heard, his shoulders hunched and his collar flipped up against the evening drizzle. "John, wait."

"I have to get home," John muttered when Jim caught up to him. "I'm not even supposed to be out right now." He quickened his steps, scowling when Jim matched his pace at his side. "Look, I'll see you at school or something."

"Just tell me what's wrong first, and then you can go," Jim reached out to grab John's upper arm, pulling him to the side against a shop front window. "John, please. You're upset. Let me help."

John shook off Jim's hold and turned to face him, blue eyes ablaze with anger and compact body vibrating with fury. "You really want to know why I'm upset? Fine. You let me think you knew what it was like when those gits surrounded me that day, that you'd faced the same sorts of things because you were like me. I believed you -- I _trusted_ you! But now I find out it's all a lie, isn't it? Here I've been thinking that you get it, that you're the only one in this fucking town --" He took a ragged breath. "Do you know what it felt like for me to see you with Miss Hooper tonight? She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

"John, listen to me --"

"No!" John stopped, agitated, and ran a hand through his short hair. He looked even more overcome with emotion than he had when Jim had interrupted the bullies attacking him in the alley. "Maybe you thought I was idiot enough not to figure out you were having me on. Christ knows I feel fucking stupid right now. But what I still can't reckon is _why_ you said those things to make me believe you were gay too." 

It was the first time he'd used the word aloud about himself to Jim -- Jim imagined it might have been the first time John had said it aloud to anyone -- but he didn't pause or stumble over it, just rushed ahead obviously spurred on by everything else he felt he had to say. 

"You know, I wouldn't have cared either way, because unlike most of the people here you seemed like you actually gave a shit about me," John went on. "That would have been enough. But Christ! Why pretend -- was it just for a laugh?" His voice broke on the last word.

Jim shook his head slowly. "You've got it all wrong."

John gave a bitter laugh. "Nope. Don't think I have. Anyone who saw the two of you together like I just did would say the same. I don't know what your game is, Mr Moriarty, but stay the hell away from me from now on." He began to back away. When he stumbled slightly, he looked gutted for a second before he righted himself. Then he turned on his heel to go.

"When I said listen to me earlier, it wasn't a request," Jim said sharply. "I'm not letting you go anywhere until you hear me out. So stop where you are." 

"The fuck I will!" John spun around to glare at him, his face a tumult of emotions. Along with the hurt feelings still leaving him looking distressed, there was the barest trace of fear in his eyes at Jim's order to stay put. But the rest of his expression simply took Jim's breath away with its lovely mix of fury and obstinacy. _There it was_ , John's utter resolve to stand his ground even as he found himself caught in a dangerous situation, the strength of mind to appear unassailable even when an emotional or physical blow made him weak. Every bit of it, from John's posture to his harsh breathing, was a gorgeous fulfillment of the promise Jim had glimpsed in John that day at the alley. 

Jim stepped forward, crowding John back against the entrance to the closed shop. He could tell from the indignation on John's face that he had only a few minutes to talk before John tried to shove him aside or throw a punch. It made Jim's blood sing to see how even as John's gaze betrayed that his world was crashing down all around him, his sturdy frame looked coiled for a fight. Jim actually had to claw his fingernails into the soft skin of his palms hold himself back from slamming John up against the building and scraping his teeth down that lovely pale neck to mark it. 

Instead he took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly, just enough to force John to slot himself further into the darkness cast against the niche of the shop door. He kept his voice low as he spoke. 

"You should know better than anyone, John, what it means to have to hide away. You've had years of practice, after all. Now, wouldn't it be lovely if I could say that you'd never have to look over your shoulder again once you're done with school? Or that you'd never again feel forced to tell lies about who you really are?" 

He paused, his eyes scanning John's face to watch as John swallowed nervously but kept his insolent glare. 

"Well, as much as I'd like to tell you there are only happily-ever-afters ahead, too bad for us we can't live in fairy tales, Johnny." He gave John a grim smile. "Oh, obviously there are laws protecting people, making sure they can't take aim at each other because of differences. By rights it shouldn't matter to anyone that I'm gay. But tell me, what's to stop parents or administrators from sneaking and cheating, creeping after gay teachers to accuse them of breaking some silly rule just to be rid of them?"

At the first mention of the word gay, John's lips parted as he stared at Jim in confusion. His left fist curled and released at his side, as though he was still half caught up in his urge to push Jim aside and run away.

"Maybe I _want_ to announce exactly who I am instead of keeping it locked up, a secret from my colleagues and students," Jim went on, letting his voice fill with emotion. "But would it be worth it if some bigoted father tries to get me dismissed on some trumped up excuse just because he refuses to let me in the same room as his son?" He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. "If the senior instructors knew I was gay, do you know how likely they would be to give another assistant a better review, all because they don't like the fact that I sleep with men?"

As he listened, John swayed where he stood, once again looking distraught. But oh what a difference those intervening moments had made! Now instead of betraying his hurt for himself, his expression only held anguish for Jim. His fingers twitched as though he was holding himself back from reaching out to offer whatever comfort he could muster.

Taking the opportunity for a calculated move, Jim stepped back, dropping his face briefly into his hands to hide his overwhelming feelings. Truth be told, he'd actually gotten himself a bit choked up at his speech; it wasn't entirely false, after all. 

"Maybe I should be braver," he said at last, looking at John and tilting his chin up in a gesture of defiance even as he let his voice tremble. "Maybe I shouldn't think only of keeping my position. After all, how am I supposed to help boys like you have courage if I can't show it myself?"

"No, that's not -- please, don't say that," John interrupted hastily. He took a half-step forward, bringing him closer to Jim once more. "If it's not all right for you to tell, it has nothing to do with being brave." 

Jim took a deep breath and let it out in a pained laugh. "Molly's just a friend, as you probably realize by now. When I told her I needed a bit of help to smooth over things at the school when people started asking questions, she agreed straight away. Of course, it's not enough to just sit together in the faculty lounge if I need to make it seem real. So we've been out a time or two, restaurants and that sort of thing, so we can be seen in public. It's far from ideal, pretending --" He stopped speaking, looking off in the distance and projecting the very image of a man trying to keep himself from falling apart. 

When he squared his shoulders and looked back at John, he found John looking even more determined, like he'd decided to be the strong one for both of them. 

"You don't have to say any more." John's gruff voice went gentle as he continued, "I'm sorry I shouted when I didn't understand."

Jim exhaled slowly and slumped against the door frame, putting him nearly close enough to lean on John. "You're an extraordinary boy, John Watson. Do you know, out of everyone in this town, you're only the second person I've told?"

John looked stunned and pleased all at once. Even so, he scoffed, saying, "I'm not exactly a kid anymore, you know, even if I am still in school. You don't have to call me a boy." He looked up at Jim, the challenge clear in his bright eyes.

Jim let his smile spread across his face slowly. "Then I should say you're an extraordinary man, John Watson."

*~*~*~*~*

A few days later John Watson lingered behind while the other students left the Literature classroom. He gathered his things slowly, pausing to check around him as if absent-minded while the rest of the school spilled out into the corridor shoving at each other and laughing.

"Your essay, Mr Watson?" Jim asked him when John at last hefted up his shoulder bag and began to walk toward him where he was sat at the large teacher's desk. Mr Miller stood outside in the corridor, deep in conversation with another staff member, so Jim had made himself comfortable in Miller's chair. As John approached, Jim made a show of peering outside the room before giving John an outrageous wink. 

John grinned, though he sobered before he spoke. "I just wanted to say again I'm sorry about the other night. I meant what I said before, about how you're one of the only people who's been decent to me here. I should have trusted you."

Jim looked up at John, holding his gaze. "I can't tell you how much that means to me, John."

John gave a self-conscious shrug, but a small beguiling smile played at his lips. "Well. I have to get going. Erm, this is for you." He handed over the stack of clipped together pages he'd been clutching. 

"Wait just a moment." Jim drew out a leaflet that John had slipped in just under his essay. "What's this?"

"A film festival, in town this weekend," John said in a rush, his cheeks heating with an appealing blush. "I thought you might like it."

Jim suppressed a smile as he scanned the page John had surreptitiously given him. What a delight it was to see John begin to emulate Jim's own strategies already. 

"Anyway, it's something most people round here wouldn't think to bother with. So I thought I could take you, if you like." His cheeks flushed crimson. "As an apology for the other night, and just because, erm. I'd like to."

Jim drew his finger down over the listings, tracing the titles of Hitchcock films on offer. He paused at _Strangers on a Train_. "This is one of my favorites. I'd love to go."

"Great," John said, at once looking terribly relieved. He shifted to lean over the desk, peering at where Jim's fingertip stroked along to underline the title. "Oh, that film has only the one showing this weekend, three nights from now. We could meet there. Or if you like, maybe--"

"But though I'd love to go, I can't," Jim interrupted softly. He grimaced to show his reluctance as he handed the flyer back to John. "I'm so sorry, John. Please don't ask me about it again."

John clutched the paper in both hands as he blinked in confusion. "Oh. Okay. I see." His blue eyes dropped to the side before he took a halting pace away and then another, heavy steps plodding toward the threshold. 

At the door, though, he paused. Jim leaned forward, keen to see how John would respond next. He had to quickly train his expression to something more neutral when John turned back.

"You know what, no. I _don't_ see why you can't go with me," John began resolutely, striding back over to Jim. 

"Look, John," Jim said in a low placating voice. "It's not that -- you know that I like spending time with you. But we've already talked about how some people might misinterpret seeing the two of us together."

"When we shared lunch here at the school, yeah," John said impatiently. "But this is more like the coffee shop, right? We can be alone -- I mean, we can spend time together, and it's not where you work, or where anyone would notice, so it's okay."

Jim pressed his lips together before shifting his gaze out to the hall where Miller continued to chat with the other senior instructor. "Yes. Well. About the coffee shop --"

"No," John interrupted, eyes flashing. His eyes followed Jim's glance out the corridor. When he saw Miller, his jaw clenched; for a moment he looked wildly furious. Jim couldn't have better led him to the conclusion that Miller was at least partly to blame for this increased caution if he'd planned it for weeks. 

"John," Jim murmured in mild warning. 

"No," John repeated, lowering his voice slightly after self-consciously wresting his gaze back. "I don't care what anyone's said to you. You told me no one else from the school ever goes there, and you're right. I've never spotted anyone from round here anywhere near at that place." When Jim didn't reply, John exclaimed, "You can't seriously mean we can't meet there any more! I won't stop coming." 

Despite the firm set of his jaw, John's blue eyes looked utterly vulnerable and pleading. Jim wanted to reach across the desk and cup his face, stroking that soft skin to soothe him. Instead he swallowed deliberately and replied, "Then I'll have to stop going there."

John gaped at him, looking truly lost. "But why?"

"It's just -- never think that I don't care for you, John. I'd like nothing more than for us to continue our...friendship." He let his voice take on an urgent tone as he went on. "But when my mentor _and_ a close friend start asking questions about what you are to me, it's too dangerous to keep on as we've been."

"Miller," John said flatly. From the barely concealed animosity in that single word, one would never have thought John had obviously once considered Mr Miller one of his few allies at the school. "Miss Hooper has to be the other, I suppose. But I thought she was helping you, not trying to make trouble."

Make _trouble_. Jim just barely resisted letting out a delighted laugh. How quickly John had cast Molly as a danger to the two of them! 

"It's not as simple as all that," Jim said slowly, injecting his tone with a thread of uncertainty even as he kept his next words reassuring. "Molly is a friend. You already know she's been helping with, well, certain things we've spoken about. I owe her more than I can say for that." He cleared his throat, letting John see his growing discomfort. "But she felt...concerned about how I ran after you that night. When I didn't return to the restaurant for her, she wondered even more. Later, she asked a few questions about exactly how well I know you. I can't -- I won't -- let you get dragged into the sorts of complications and problems that could come from a situation like this."

"So tell her something else when she asks questions -- say we aren't seeing each other outside of school. Make something up!"

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Awfully quick to suggest a lie so we can see each other, aren't you, John?" He let a hint of teasing approval slip into his voice as he leaned forward on his folded arms. 

As if obeying an unspoken summons, John took a step closer. His tongue slipped out the barest amount to touch his lower lip.

"But no," Jim said, changing tacks and shifting away to join John's essay with the pile from the other students on the desk. He straightened and spoke stiffly. "Maybe we can spend more time together one day, when things are different. But for now, if there's anyone feeling suspicious about our...closeness, then perhaps for the time being we should take a break from one another." 

John shook his head, bewildered and obviously upset. "But there's _no time_ \-- soon enough the year will be over. You'll go teach somewhere else when you're through being an assistant here and the new term begins, and I'll just be alone again. Don't you want -- we are _friends_ , aren't we?" Every added word he spoke betrayed the tremulous strain in his voice. 

Jim met his gaze. "You know we are. But if I'm to keep my job -- and for your safety, John; you have to think of yourself in this -- we can't keep taking these risks."

John drew himself up, his face closing down in a stubborn cast. "Fine. Right." His tone was clipped and irritated. "I reckon I'll just see you around, then."

"John, wait," Jim called after him when he started off. 

But John only made a dismissive gesture as he hurried away.


	5. Chapter 5

When the weekend arrived Jim made his excuses to Molly when she ventured to wonder whether they should make plans. He shook his head regretfully, exclaiming about all the marking he simply had to get done. 

She fell over herself to assure him it was fine they weren't going to have time to spend with each other, even as she looked uncertain and disappointed when he offered only vague promises to make it up to her. 

He gave her a huge smile on leaving, mostly because at this point he counted himself almost done with her tiresome gawking gazes and irksome stilted conversation. It was a lovely bit of providence: Sebastian had stumbled across a key source a few days back, a disgruntled former player in this little scheme they were unraveling. Even better, he was an outright idiot who happened to fancy himself rather a clever bargainer. With Jim's help and egging on, they'd been able to gather some essential information by the week's end. 

Rather messy business, that. Jim had regretfully disposed of one of his favorite suits afterward. Unfortunately it seemed some stains were simply too stubborn to treat properly.

Anyway, poor Molly had been made rather redundant by the new developments. As for the last crucial files Jim suspected he could find in Mrs. Flanders' locked-tight classroom, well. With them so close to the end of the matter, he was prepared to get those tidbits by other methods, ones that didn't require him to listen to nattering on about cats and insecurities and whether a fourth date meant things might be serious (though it was perfectly okay if they weren't, she didn't mean to press _at all_!). 

So it was with a light heart and a spring in his step that he set out for the theater hosting the film festival that Saturday night. He found a seat in the empty back row. From his position so close to the door, Jim readily spotted John trudging in by himself, his shoulder bag slung across his back. 

Most of the patrons milling around or already in their seats were older residents of the town, done up for their outing in smart cardigans and sensible trousers or skirts. John stood out easily among them in his scuffed trainers and taped glasses, his faded jeans torn at the knees. A slimmer fitting jumper than he typically wore, a striped top, peeked out at the sleeves of his secondhand jacket. As he scanned the rows of seats before him, he held on to the strap of that familiar fraying cloth school bag to his chest like a lifeline. 

Jim kept silent as he leaned over the seat in front of him, taking a moment to appreciate John's gait, a strange little mix of hesitancy and determination. Obviously John sensed he didn't belong there entirely, not with the little cinema's art-house atmosphere and solidly middle-class elders occupying the space. Yet there was that underlying sureness of step that could be coaxed to the fore with a little hard work. And for certain pet projects, Jim really didn't mind getting his hands dirty.

He didn't let John get more than a few steps further down the aisle before he sent a boiled sweet lobbing through the air to clip him on the ear.

John looked around, annoyance and confusion warring on his appealing face. Then he spotted Jim, and his pretty lips parted in surprise. 

Jim made a show of placing a finger on his lips with a flourish, as though shushing him dramatically. Then he pointed his finger at John slyly and beckoned him with it. 

John grinned, though he did look hastily to his left and right, to check whether he was being observed. Then he casually made his way back up the aisle, heading into the row just ahead of Jim and taking the seat immediately to the left in front of him. 

"Nice cap," John said with a smile, rolling his eyes at the touristy "London" cap Jim had donned before he'd arrived at the theater.

"Do you like it? It's my disguise," Jim told him, giving him a wicked smile. 

John snorted and then turned to face front. Not much time passed, however, before he shifted to present his profile with his head tipped down, as though riffling through his bag. He cleared his throat and murmured, "Thought you said we shouldn't spend time with each other." 

"Ugh, you're right, I did! Showing up here tonight anyway makes me look sooooo changeable! Still, I couldn't help myself." Jim had leaned in to whisper, letting himself breathe the words in John's ear. 

John shivered ever so slightly. "I don't want you to lose your job, Mr Moriarty," he muttered. His eyes flickered over to Jim and just as quickly darted away.

No matter that no one even was observing them. But Jim could have crooned with pleasure at how readily John took to trying to cover their assignation with all those little covert gestures and poses, just as if he really was hiding a secret meeting from prying eyes. Of course he wasn't doing the best job of it, but as with so many of John's cautious inclinations, oh, the potential was there.

"I won't," Jim whispered. "I mean, not until I want to lose it, and then it won't be a moment too soon."

At this John shot him a confused look, and Jim made a show of smiling widely. John's cheeks flushed and he gave a nervous laugh before he again turned round. 

"I just thought," Jim said, looking up to make it seem he might have been speaking aloud to himself, "That I might take in a film. As luck would have it, somehow I came across this flyer. So if I happen to run into a student I know at such a spontaneous outing, it's not as though we could have thought to arrange it beforehand, is it?"

The house lights went down and the audience quieted. 

"I think Mr Miller would say that's just semantics," John tossed over his shoulder when the opening credits played. His face glowed in the play of light from the screen as he smiled, and Jim had to hold back from reaching forward to stroke the flush on his gorgeous cheek and coo over that impish grin. 

"Good thing Mr Miller isn't here, then," Jim countered. 

"Yeah." John leaned back in his seat, still turned to the side. Given how far Jim had leaned forward, it wouldn't be hard for their lips to meet.

It wasn't time for that just yet. But they were further along than they had been at the start, weren't they? 

"At times like this, I rather think you ought to call me Jim instead of Mr Moriarty."

"You mean when we're alone together and we're not supposed to be?" John asked. His lips twitched in a suppressed smile, almost flirtatious and arch but clearly still nervous about trying that sort of thing out.

"Especially then," Jim said with a wink, his low voice conspiratorial. He squeezed John's shoulder and, when he pulled away, let his knuckles stroke across the nape of John's neck. 

The slight gasp John made was audible during a moment of silence. Someone several rows ahead of them turned to make irritated shushing sounds. 

"No talking during the film," Jim whispered in John's ear, a hair's breadth away from actually brushing his lips against the soft lobe. He watched with delight as John shivered again.

*~*~*~*~*

"Thanks for these," Jim said, gesturing to the container of chips he held as they walked along the deserted downtown street.

"Well, I would have paid for your ticket if you'd let me, so." John scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Least I could do, and all that."

When Jim wordlessly offered him a chip from the cone of greasy paper, John grinned, hunching his shoulders in the damp night air. "Nope, already had mine."

"But I like to share," Jim protested. "Well, that's not true actually," he confided, tilting his head to the side in consideration. "I quite like having the things I really want all to myself."

John laughed outright at that.

"But I like sharing with _you_ ," Jim wheedled, holding the chips out again and bumping John's shoulder with his own.

John said nothing, but he took one anyway, smiling to himself as he ate it. He kept pace with Jim, matching his stride as he had done since they left the shop, their footsteps the only ones sounding out in the isolated area.

As they made their way, however, someone else came into view, a man stumbling along drunkenly across the street in the opposite direction. After slowing to a shambling sway, he muttered under his breath as he gradually came to a full stop to watch Jim and John's progress. 

Obviously anyone trying to avoid trouble would have kept their face averted from this potentially hostile new arrival and surreptitiously quickened their steps. 

When Jim met the man's eyes and sent an arch smile his way, the drunkard's expression turned sour. After the briefest of pauses the stranger changed direction to track their steps from a distance.

John hadn't noticed the silent exchange between Jim and their inebriated stalker. But it took only a few seconds for him to spot the man now more obviously following them. "Ah, Christ," he muttered. 

"All right?" Jim asked John in a normal voice. He pressed his shoulder to John's again, as though he hadn't seen anything unusual, leaning a bit more obviously into him this time.

"Fucking poofs!" the man still shadowing them from across the way called out suddenly. "Oi! I'm talking to the two of you!"

"Let's turn back," John said in a rush. "We passed a bus stop; there might be people waiting there now."

"Okay," Jim agreed, making his eyes go wide and worried at John's fretful expression. They turned together, still keeping pace, and the man swore at them, also quickly changing direction. 

"You've got some fucking nerve, prancing around here," the man shouted. He'd stepped off the kerb, now only a few meters away on the road. 

"Fuck off," Jim called suddenly. He stepped forward, keeping John behind him.

"Fucking hell, don't _say_ anything to him," John pleaded under his breath. He tugged at Jim's arm to come along even as their aggressive shadow bawled out, "What did you just say to me, you little ponce?"

"I said: Fuck. Off." Jim turned to face the heckling man. "Go on ahead," he urged John in an undertone, prodding him in the shoulder to continue alone. 

"Not without you," John disagreed, the fear clear in his voice as the man charged over to them. 

" _Run_ , John," Jim hissed, letting John hear a frantic note weaving into his words. 

John set his chin and widened his stance as he planted his feet with determination. "Only if you come too!"

"I'll show you how we do things round here," the man announced in a growl, now only steps away from Jim and already drawing his fist back.

When Jim twisted forward and slammed his elbow into the man's windpipe first, their pursuer staggered back in surprise and pain. 

"Jesus," John choked out, stumbling back a few steps in shock. 

Meanwhile Jim rushed at the man and gripped his shoulders before he drove a knee hard into his groin. When the man crumpled and fell to the side, a strained whinge the only sound from his throat, Jim hauled back and kicked three times at his gut while he writhed in pain. 

"Oh god, stop," John blurted, trying to pull Jim back by his shoulders. "Let's get out of here before someone else comes!"

With one final kick to the man's stomach, Jim turned and grabbed John's hand, pulling him into a run alongside him.

They pounded along the pavement, struggling to keep up with one another until they reached a more crowded area. 

"Stop. Catch your breath," Jim ordered, gently leading John to a quiet alley in the middle of the bustle and propping him against the brick wall.

John nodded and braced his hands on his knees, panting hard.

Just beyond their little alcove, people spilled out of pubs, wandering around with lit cigarettes in their hands or clustered in chattering groups clutching sweating pints.

"You okay?" Jim asked after a short while.

"I --" John looked at him and immediately looked away as he straightened. "You really went after that bloke," he said, his voice strained. 

"Self-defense, John." Jim stood loosely, his hands relaxed at his sides, and made sure to keep his voice soothing and even. "The sort they teach in those classes we spoke about. Remember?" 

"Yeah, but. He didn't even get to throw a punch." John shook his head and stepped to the side, shifting himself away from Jim. "I'm not saying he wasn't an arsehole, or that he didn't deserve everything he got, but --"

"He would have, though. You heard what he said, how he looked. I know I don't have to tell you what it's like to have to fight back when someone's threatening you or someone you care for," Jim said softly. 

John slowly nodded, still looking troubled. 

"Well." Jim let his expression go impassive, something he'd never done before in front of John. "Sometimes we don't wait to see what the other bloke might do. Sometimes we cut people off before they can even try to hurt us." He openly regarded John, waiting to see how he'd take this. 

John frowned at him before he shifted his eyes downward. "It just seemed a little, I don't know, extreme." His words were stilted, as if he were forcing himself to speak out, like a little child adamant about speaking the truth despite knowing he would be scolded for what he said. "Taking him down that way, how you kept at him once he was on the ground--"

"Do you know what he might have done to us? To you?" Jim gave in to an urge that had tugged at him for weeks and cradled John's jaw in his right hand. "John, I couldn't let anyone hurt you."

John looked up at him, startled, his sea-blue eyes fixed on Jim like he had just found in him a still point in an unsteady world. "No?" he asked, his voice strained. 

Jim didn't have to pretend to let a rush of affection heat his gaze. "If I had my way, I'd never let anyone so much as get close enough to try." 

"I feel that way," John blurted. "That -- I won't let anyone hurt you either." John's gaze dropped to Jim's mouth, and he bit his lower lip. 

"I'm honored." Still cupping John's face reverently, Jim let his tongue dart out to lick his dry lips.

When John surged forward to kiss him, Jim was ready. He grunted as though in surprise, freezing for a second as John joined their mouths with inexperienced clumsy presses of lips. A beat later, he let himself clutch John close and take control, enticing his mouth open and tilting his head just so, making the kiss more and more heated until he was devouring John's small desperate cries.

Just as he prepared to pull back and stammer out something about how they couldn't do this, or he refused to take advantage, John wrenched his head back, gasping and trembling. 

"John," Jim whispered. "I--"

"I'm so sorry," John said brokenly. "I know you can get in real trouble if -- I didn't think -- fuck, I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." He leaned forward enough to touch their foreheads together for a second before drawing back. The marvelous rush of realization that thrummed through him forced him to close his eyes as he pulled away. He hadn't yet expected to find John's impulse to protect _him_ kicking in so quickly, particularly when John was so overwhelmed at this first kiss. 

"Shh, it's okay," he said hurriedly when he saw John's distraught expression. "I shouldn't have kissed you back, but --" He ran shaky fingers through his hair and cleared his throat. Slowly heaving a sigh, he took a single step back, leaving John alone and slumped against the wall.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"I'd never tell anyone," John promised.

Jim shook his head. "I'd never suspect you would. I trust you."

"I trust you, too," John quickly echoed. "If we weren't in this situation," he continued hesitantly. "With your job, and what people might say if they found out. If you weren't -- and I wasn't. Do you think maybe, would we --" He trailed off, looking distressed.

Jim let his lips part, and a wistful look flit over his face. Then he pressed his mouth briefly into a thin line before he forced an awkward laugh. "Dangerous talk, that, John Watson."

John gave a jerky nod in response.

"Come on," Jim said, subdued as he briefly grasped John's upper arm before quickly letting go. "We should see about getting you home."


	6. Chapter 6

"Tell me something _lovely_ ," Jim sang into his mobile when he answered Sebastian's ring. 

In the far corner of the windowless room, the man Jim had just been having a little tête-à-tête with cried out as one of Jim's grunts smacked him across the mouth with a pipe. 

Sebastian spoke even more rapidly than his usual brisk clip. "I'm at the Watson house. You said you didn't want him hurt. But--"

"Or there would be hell to pay!" Jim shouted, his face screwing up in anger. "Did you happen to forget I said that bit as well, you stupid cunt?"

At the sound of Jim bellowing, the man over in the corner slumped in his restraints and let out a pitiful gurgling sound. Meanwhile, the grunt who had been abusing him hesitated, his arm frozen mid-swing and delaying the next blow.

Sebastian, bless him, gave no such blatant sign of his own misgivings at Jim's outburst, though his slight pause on the line before continuing to report spoke volumes. "It happened quickly, right at the change of watch. Without someone stationed on the inside of the home, I can't see how it could have been entirely prevented. We've already put distractions in place to stall the situation as best we can. Now we're only awaiting specific instructions from you on how to handle the matter next."

"Stay where you are. I'm on my way." Jim pocketed the mobile. "Bring the car around," he told the grunt, who blinked at him dumbly before fidgeting with the pipe still in his hand. 

In any other circumstances, Jim would have been delighted to rip into an underling who couldn't change tracks quickly, but right now he hadn't the patience. "The car," he said, deadly calm. 

As soon as the man scrambled from the room, Jim shed his suit jacket and fumbled off his button-up shirt. The designer undershirt and finely wrought tailored trousers he still wore were a far cry from his usual teaching assistant garb. But accuracy in disguise was hardly his highest priority at the moment, not when John was in danger of the slightest additional bump or bruise from that abusive bastard of his father.

At the door Jim quickly turned to regard the man in the chair who had by now begun to shake violently in his bonds. "Aren't you lucky? With Daddy and the rest called out on something _really_ important, you get a little extra time to think things over." 

The man met Jim's gaze as best he could with his bleeding and battered face, but made only a choking sound in reply.

Jim tsked in disappointment. "Of course, considering my mood at the moment, if you're _truly_ lucky you'll drown from your lungs filling with blood before I get back. Bye-bye!"

*~*~*~*~*

*

 

As he jogged round the side of the semi-detached Watson house to reach the back garden Jim spotted more than one neighboring house's curtains quickly pulled back and dropped.

When he got close enough to the house he could hear a woman's voice coming from inside, plaintive, while a man's lower register grunted occasional replies.

Jim immediately made his way over to where he knew he would find Sebastian stationed. His second-in-command stood obscured in the shadows, military-grade binoculars trained on an upper-storey window. 

Sebastian didn't bother asking if Jim wanted the binoculars. He just handed them over and gestured to the upstairs rooms. 

One window was lit up like a cheap shop front. Inside, a girl with long blond hair paced what must have been the length of the room as though distraught, appearing at the window at regular intervals. The other window was nearly dark, illuminated only slightly by what might have been a small desk lamp shining from the corner.

"Situation?"

"The confrontation happened quickly. Sunday nights have been quiet in the past, and we weren't expecting --"

"Save me your pitiful excuses."

Tightening his jaw a minuscule degree, Sebastian continued. "As soon as I saw David Watson pull his arm back to deliver the first blow, I signaled to begin the first of our distraction initiatives. Several minutes passed before Eddie could ring the doorbell in his courier disguise --"

"Remind me to make Eddie redundant after I have you break both his legs," Jim interrupted.

"-- and in that time, Watson landed two blows to his son's left cheek and twisted his right arm behind his back when John attempted to dodge him. When Eddie got Watson to answer the door, John left for his upstairs bedroom. His sister had already escaped to her room at the point the initial conflict began; she wasn't harmed at all."

"No, I'd wager she wasn't." Jim's eyes focused once more to the barely-lit window that must belong to John's bedroom. He wanted John out of there as soon as possible, but since that night they had seen the film together, the stakes had risen. Jim had anticipated accustoming John to the way of things in his real life even more gradually, but once again, John had surprised him by how quickly he arrived at where Jim wanted to point him. John's impulses toward him, to defend him, to protect him, to put his trust in Jim wholly, only added to the growing sense that Jim Moriarty wouldn't settle for coming to John Watson's rescue for only one night. 

Orchestrating a longer arrangement to keep John by Jim's side could take a fair amount of finesse. Worried though he was, none of what he wanted in the long run would be served by acting before the moment had reached its crisis. He frowned and asked Sebastian, "And the mother?"

"Holly Watson stood back but didn't leave the room when her husband first hit his son. Since John went upstairs, she is apparently attempting to subdue her husband through bargaining and pleading. Though her husband threatened her after Eddie left the front door, subsequent blows have so far been avoided."

"Well, points for the thorough summary. Mind you, you're still running a rather large deficit at the moment." 

When Sebastian failed to react to the implicit threat, Jim impatiently scanned the upper storey of the house again. He could see nothing new in the almost darkened room. 

A second later in the room to the right, however, Harriet Watson began to seem more agitated. She sped her steps, making her hair whip around her as she changed directions to pace the length of the room. Seconds later, having apparently worked herself into a rage, she picked up an object and threw it, hitting a mirror on the wall.

The glass shattered. 

Downstairs, the voices that had become subdued rose in volume: the man's slurred and angry, the woman's panicked and pitched higher than before. 

Harriet froze for a moment, seemingly realizing she had attracted her father's inebriated attention. She grabbed a jacket and fled the room. Almost immediately afterward the front door slammed. They could hear her booted footsteps echoing down the quiet street as she ran. 

"Now, there's our moment," Jim said under his breath before he began to stride toward the back door. Before Sebastian could catch up to him, he reached the threshold and began to pound against the wood.

There was a short cry from inside the house followed by silence. 

A minute later, the door eased open.

"Ji -- Mr Moriarty," John said in a strained voice. He hovered at the door, the kitchen dark behind him, clearly stunned to find Jim standing in front of him. The bruise his father had left on his cheek was already beginning to bloom purple. His eyes focused on Sebastian for just a moment before he shifted his attention back to Jim. "What are you doing here?"

Jim widened his eyes as if in shock. "Never mind that, John. Look at you: you're hurt!"

John's hand flew to his cheek. "Oh. That. It's, erm. I'm fine, really -- just a small accident earlier --"

"John, please. I won't ask you to tell me what's happened if you're not comfortable saying." Jim made sure to employ his finest regretful Daddy-knows-best expression before he continued, "But for now I think it's important that you come with me."

"Come with you?" John echoed. He licked his lips nervously. When his gaze again shifted to Sebastian, who continued to stand impassively, he paused. His brow furrowed as he searched Sebastian's face as if trying to place how he might know him.

"Who the hell are you talking to?" David Watson demanded as he suddenly joined his son at the door.

He stood slightly taller than his son (and Jim bet that he lorded every last centimeter over John), with darker hair but nearly the same eyes. The drink and failure in his life had taken their toll on his countenance: he looked at least a decade older than Jim knew him to be from the information Sebastian had gathered. There was none of the kindness, none of the spark, none of the playfulness he saw in John in this vile disappointment of a human being. 

After barely glancing over at Jim, Sebastian subtly relaxed his ready stance and rolled his shoulders slightly, transforming into far less of a visible threat with only a minor adjustment of his body. With a tiny alteration, he let his weight fall on his back foot, bringing him a bit behind Jim and more in shadow than light. 

While John pressed his lips together and schooled his expression into something blank, obviously so as to placate his father, Jim instantly mustered a bright smile: friendly, conciliatory. 

John turned warily to his father before starting introductions in a determinedly composed tone. "Dad, this is Mr Moriarty. He's one of my instructors at school, the assistant instructor in Literature. Mr Moriarty, this is my dad, David Watson."

"Bit late to be popping round to your students' homes," David Watson said gruffly. He looked at Sebastian and apparently dismissed him as inconsequential at once, turning to focus solely on Jim. "You lot making house calls now?"

"Nothing of the sort," Jim said, keeping his eyes wide and summoning a bit of nervousness into his tone. "But I thought if you wouldn't mind, I might have a word with you alone."

Watson gave them a hard look before he scoffed and glared at his son. "Johnny, get out of here."

John sent an anxious look Jim's way. "But --"

"Go!" his father bit out. 

Face pale, John backed up before leaving the kitchen.

"About your son John," Jim began.

From somewhere else in the house, a woman murmured. Jim thought he heard a hushed and reassuring reply from John as though he was soothing his mother. 

When Watson regarded Jim again, his blue eyes were cold and full of rage. "Now, I don't know what game the likes of you thinks you're playing at, coming here so late sniffing round my boy. But I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Ah, but I'm afraid we can't do that," Jim said quickly, shouldering his way against the threshold and blocking Watson when he went to shut the door. "You see, I'm a bit concerned about leaving John here tonight." He motioned vaguely toward his own cheek at the exact spot where John bore his contusion. 

"You're a bit concerned?" David Watson repeated, incredulously mocking Jim's tone. "What business is it of yours? He's home where he should be, and that's more than you deserve to know."

"If you could just humor me for a moment -- maybe we could talk a little ways away?" Jim asked. He grimaced slightly at Sebastian before gesturing to indicate Watson should precede him where they might speak with more privacy. 

Watson rolled his eyes but followed, stepping fully outside past where Sebastian stood inoffensively by and walking to where Jim waited a few steps into the back garden. 

"I've half a mind to call that headmaster at Johnny's school, see if he knows about your after-hours visits to your students," Watson said derisively.

Jim drew back a little, hand on his chest as if shaken by the suggestion, before he moved in and gave Watson a leering grin. "You know, you really ought to," he agreed, his voice conspiratorial. "Sweet boy like your son, trusting anyone who shows him a kindness; soooo dishy with that lovely little mouth and gorgeous fit body even if he hasn't realized it yet; neglected at home by his coward of a mother, abused by his brute of a father; and, what's more, bullied by his idiotic peers who don't like him acting so clever and hate him for being so very _queer_ : he's awfully vulnerable for someone like me to swoop in and do exactly as I like."

Watson's jaw dropped. "The fuck are you on about?" he managed when he could speak again. 

Jim dropped any last lingering pretense of harmlessness and geniality and leaned in close, his teeth bared and eyes wild with anger. 

"What I'm telling you, David Watson, is I don't like you touching what's mine. So to keep that from happening again, I've found a rather neat little solution, expensive though it is saving the sorry arse of an idiot such as you. But I call it a good investment to make certain you'll never come near John again while I have anything to say about it."

"You're mental," Watson said. But though he spoke sharply, but he had begun to look uneasy. 

"Possibly," Jim conceded. "Still, we're talking about you now. So what I'd love to know is how did you manage to rack up such immense gambling debts in between all the drinking yourself half to death?" He spread his hands expansively. " _Such_ an accomplishment -- most men wouldn't have been able to find the time! You really ought to have put those multi-tasking talents to better use. Say, earning enough to keep your family fed and clothed without your wife having to take a demanding second job while you waste your days on drink?"

For the first time that night, Watson looked truly shaken. "I don't need to stand here and listen to these fucking ridiculous claims and lies --"

"Oh, they're not _lies_ , which you very well know. When I spoke to a certain Neil Cooper about managing your pesky arrears, he was more than happy to have someone else take responsibility for those piling-up unpaid sums. All that sport betting and those high-stakes card games really added up, didn't they? Too bad you never did recoup your losses! Anyway, I don't think you could have escaped him and his boys without some sort of payment soon. He certainly has some angry lads working for him; I really ought to see if any of them want to make a lateral move to my organization. That must be why you're spending less and less time sober. You're probably constantly agonizing the money will run out for good, wondering if you'll have to move your family out of town quickly, considering how you'll look in the end once they've really worked you over, smacking your son and wife so you can still pretend like you're still a big man while you wait for the last blow to fall --"

"Shut up," Watson said unsteadily. 

Jim tapped a finger against his lower lip and made a moue of disappointment. "Hmm, this takes me back, really. My Da was an awful lot like you, you know." He slid his hands into his pockets and lifted his shoulders slightly, looking as if he were loath to say something very awkward. "Now, as it happens I am willing to be rather lenient in my expectations about repayment of that amount you owe." 

Just for fun, Jim named the exact sum owed down to the penny so that he could watch Watson turn deathly pale. "Far more lenient than that nasty, dangerous Cooper would have been!" he continued. In fact, I might be persuaded to overlook the current debt entirely." He paused to open his mouth wide in feigned shock. "Wouldn't that just solve every one of your problems? That's of course provided you don't give me any trouble in what I'm after. Simple little agreement really, and we'd be square! If you want to start spiraling down into debt again afterward, why, that's your own business, isn't it?"

As Jim cheerfully continued to lay out his terms for essentially acquiring John Watson on a permanent basis, Sebastian, the gem that he was, responded to the shift in tone and drew himself up back to his customary pose of quiet menace and coiled threat. 

When Watson looked around him wildly, most likely reeling from what Jim had told him, he startled as if seeing Sebastian for the first time. To be fair, Watson seemed very likely still half-drunk and quite bewildered at finding himself in the middle of this high-stakes negotiation. 

"How do I know --" Watson began gruffly.

"That I'm telling the truth? Dear me, that is a dilemma! Tell you what, I'll make it very easy for you," Jim said, exaggerated false sympathy playing on his features. "I'll have my man over there -- friend of mine who likes to help out with some of my little pet projects -- give you a lift to go talk to Cooper. Cooper will be sure to set you straight about how I'm your new master. Of course, I can't guarantee old Neil won't have his lads take a few swings at you even if he's essentially handed you over to me on a platter. He is a feisty sort. Ugh, break-ups are sooo hard, aren't they? Some men just go out of their heads!" 

Watson's eyes skittered over to Sebastian and then back again to Jim. Jim could see the moment when the light clicked on in Watson's dim little mind: a dull panic washed over his face before he took on a mulish expression.

"There's no need for that," Watson said hastily. He'd obviously decided to get a bit of his own back, widening his stance a little and tipping his chin up to make himself appear taller. It mirrored John's determined pose a little, but had none of its actual strength. No, this was a sniveling little animal backed into a corner making a last desperate posture to protect only itself. "The boy's a burden on us anyway. No doubt he would have left home soon enough without so much as a by your leave, the ungrateful little shit. What do I care if he decides to go with you now?"

"Oh, you're just the worst sort, aren't you?" Jim said sadly. "Never even occurred to you to offer up yourself in exchange to save him, did it? Or to try and broker another deal that doesn't leave one of your family members entirely at my mercy? Oh no, not you; you're perfectly willing to give up your baby boy to wipe away your debt."

"What do you _want_?" Watson said, losing his braggadocio all at once and sounding utterly confused and half-desperate. 

"What a fantastic question!" Jim beamed at him. "So many things, really. But for now, I'd like you to show me exactly how you hit your son." 

Watson hesitated, obviously unclear on what he should do. 

So Jim tilted his head out, presenting his own left cheek and giving it a brisk tap. "Right there, if you please. I know you know how to do it; you've had plenty of practice!" He could see Watson curl and uncurl his fist, but when no contact resulted, Jim rolled his eyes. "Come now, it's hardly a bad bargain -- just your only son and one of your fists to my face in exchange for finding yourself an entirely free man come morning. Chop chop!" When Watson kept right on dithering, Jim snarled out, "Now, you fucking idiot!"

Finally David Watson managed to overcome the muddle clouding his tiny insect brain and let fly a punch that made Jim stagger back. 

Up to that point they had been having their chat in the shadows -- impossible that way for anyone from the house to see either of their expressions or gestures. But now Jim let himself stumble and fall to the ground in the spill of artificial light cast from the back door. Anyone who cared to spy what was going on from Chez Watson would be able to see the rather violent results of the conversation quite easily. 

Sure enough, he heard John give a wordless cry of shock and horror from within the house. He obviously left at a sprint, because scant moments later he hurried over to where Jim remained sprawled on the ground.

"Oh my god, oh god, what the fuck did you do to him?" John asked, his voice breaking as he knelt, half-gathering Jim into his arms, and looked accusingly at his father. 

"This ponce thinks he can _pay_ for you," David Watson bawled out unwisely. 

Jim met Sebastian's eyes where he hovered just beyond the little knot of their grouping, and Sebastian came forward unobtrusively to stand behind Watson. 

Jim moaned as if in great pain, and John clutched him tighter, closer. He touched Jim's face gently before smoothing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes. "Christ, Jim. I am so sorry --" He left off, overcome, and carefully slid his left hand to cradle the back of Jim's head with steady fingers. 

"John," Jim murmured. He moved as if to say something more but winced to give the impression he was unable to continue. 

In the next house over, a light in a small window clicked on and then just as quickly was switched off.

"He asked me to hit him, the freak --" Watson sputtered. 

"You fucking _liar_ ," John choked out, a sob in his throat. "Just stay away from him -- stay away from both of us!" Turning to Jim, he murmured, "Jim, do you think you can stand? We need to get you away from here." 

"I'm all right," Jim breathed out heavily, struggling to get to his feet. He let himself lean against John when John rushed to support his weight. 

"How did you get here?" John asked anxiously. "Did you drive over?"

Jim met Sebastian's eyes where he stood a few steps behind Watson. Sebastian shrugged and took his own key from his pocket, letting it fall to the ground. 

"Borrowed a mate's car," Jim confirmed, extending a shaky hand to point to where the key lay. "Over there, it fell when your dad --" He let the words taper off, shaking his head.

"It's okay, it's all going to be okay," John soothed him. He helped Jim over to the spot Jim indicated and scooped up the key, glaring at his dad as if daring him to say anything more. 

Fortunately, Sebastian had approached Watson and murmured something to him. There was the value of having a really top-notch second-in-command; Jim had no doubt Sebastian would soon provide a neat little lesson on the value of discretion and obeying one's betters. 

However he had begun to state the matter, it must have gotten through even Watson's thick intoxicated skull. For as John began to help Jim round to the front of the house to fetch Sebastian's car, David Watson stayed quiet, even through the series of dull thuds that meant Sebastian was capably driving the point home.


	7. Chapter 7

"Really, I don't think it's that bad," Jim protested as John continued to help guide him up the stairs to his flat. 

Well. Not his regular flat, obviously; that was a bit too grand to introduce to John just now. Luckily Jim had an additional residence or three set aside for just such emergencies when he needed a place to hole up or didn't want to reveal his preferred location. 

On the way there, while John had gripped the steering wheel in a tense but responsible manner and driven the two of them to the address Jim gave, Jim had pretended to close his eyes and list to the side. The pose easily let him send out a few quick texts unseen. 

Add in stumbling mixed with stiff walking and a few pauses to catch his breath (ostensibly) to stall them on the stairs, and by the time they actually arrived at the right floor, one of Jim's helpful point men had already carried out the essential arrangements and disappeared. 

"I doubt there's anything actually wrong with me," Jim went on as they reached the door.

"You're going to have to let me be the judge of that," John said firmly, taking another set of keys from Jim to unlock the door to the tiny flat. 

"Yes, Doctor Watson," Jim replied dutifully, bowing his head. At that John let out a startled laugh and quickly fumbled the door open. 

"Now," he said once he had Jim stationed on one of the beat-up looking squashy chairs in the narrow front room. "First aid kit?"

"Bathroom," Jim said, waving him in the appropriate direction.

"Hmm." John peered down the long hallway. "Better come with me in case we need a splash or two of water to clean you up." 

He reached out carefully, helping to heft Jim back on his feet. For all that he was clearly nervous about having left home in such dramatic circumstances, and no doubt curious about looking round Jim's flat now that he'd been allowed inside, John seemed remarkably focused and calm, his hold on Jim's arm and shoulder sturdy.

Jim nodded his agreement and made a small sound as he again leaned on John. John gave him a reassuring squeeze but he kept his grip gentle, as if he was holding something precious. 

By the time John had Jim set up perched on the edge of the bathtub (after John first washed his hands and rummaged around for the bandages and such) he seemed even more in control of his task. He concentrated fully on patching Jim up, attentive and deliberate while he cleansed the small cut on Jim's cheek and ran his thumb lightly over the darkening bruise. He even smoothed his hands lightly over the short sleeves of Jim's t-shirt and touched his leg briefly, assessing for further damage.

"Just the butterfly plaster and you'll be all set," John murmured at last. He applied it and straightened, assessing his work. "I wasn't sure if you might need a stitch or two; looks like you were lucky." 

"Suppose so." Jim raised his eyes to find John watching him intently. "But what about you?" 

"What about me?" John turned back to the sink, setting the contents of the kit to rights before snapping the lid closed. 

"Afraid we've got ourselves a matching set," By the time John looked up to regard him in the mirror, Jim gazed back with the faintest of wry smiles playing on his lips. He skimmed his fingertips over the plaster John had just applied. "I ought to see to you as well."

John scoffed. "M'fine. Trust me, I've had far worse from --" He glanced at Jim in the reflection, eyes widening as he caught Jim's troubled expression. With a clearing of his throat, he looked down again, leaving his sentence unfinished.

"Well," John said, straightening a moment later and facing Jim. "I suppose I should, erm --"

"You probably ought to stay here tonight," Jim finished for him, speaking over John's final words, "Reckon I should get back home." 

They both stared at one another. Jim let himself be the first to look away, swallowing nervously. 

"That's kind of you, but you don't have to put me up." John gave him a pained smile and nudged his glasses slightly. "I just thought what with what happened I should see you home, and now I have. I'll be fine, okay? Bit of a walk, but I'm used to that sort of thing. I'll probably even catch a bus along the way; I should be home in no time at all. Besides, I can't imagine you're that keen to have one of your students kipping on your couch tonight, eh?" He forced a laugh, clearly intent on passing it off as a joke.

"I suppose not," Jim replied softly. 

At that John swallowed hard. He gave a quick efficient nod, glancing at the door to establish his means of exit. The pull of his mouth hinted he'd read Jim's answer as a rejection, and was trying not to show how hurt he was by it. "Right. So --"

"But it's been some time since you were merely one of my students, hasn't it, John?" Jim interrupted. 

John licked his lips, a quick motion of tantalizing pink. "I --" He cast his eyes downward. "I don't know."

"I know I haven't any right to say this. But I'm not letting you go back to that house. That man -- I can't let something like that happen to you again. Not tonight, not ever."

John looked at him, the start of a hopeful expression quickly erased as he took some visible effort to compose himself. "You don't have to worry about me, I swear. Besides, I'll have to go back eventually --" 

"Who says you ever have to go back there again?" Jim asked, keeping his voice mild. 

John opened his mouth and closed it. "I -- I don't --" His gold eyelashes brushed his flushed cheeks as he looked down. 

"I can't exactly tell you what to do," Jim muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But think about staying a few days while we figure something out. At least stay the night," he added when John hesitated. "I want to know you're somewhere safe, that you won't come to any more harm." 

"I suppose I could." John took a shaky breath. "At least for tonight." 

He wanted to stay, Jim could tell. John Watson wanted so badly to find a way out of his home and out of his entire sad little life. The yearning for it was raw on his sweet face. That tiny spark of hope daring to flare from deep inside him, that fervent vulnerable wish that he would find his rescue in Jim here and now: Jim could _taste_ it. 

Jim hid his glee and gave John a small smile. "If you think you're imposing, I can tell you right now you're not. Look at all you've done to help me tonight. I don't know how I would have made it back here without you." 

He could see John wavering, mouth working almost imperceptibly as he mulled this over. 

Jim ducked his head slightly, meeting John's eyes as they rose to his. "You've gone for so long, John, taking care of everyone else. Can't you let me take care of you for a change?" 

For a moment the two of them stared at each other. The only sound was the drip-drip-drip of the faucet. 

When John surged forward to kiss him, Jim didn't bother trying to put a stop to it. Why should he, now that he had nearly secured John's place here at his side? Instead, he threaded his fingers through John's fine hair and let the hunger he felt thrumming inside him bleed through, turning the hasty kiss into something even more desperate and frantic. 

Oh, but it was a lovely thing indeed to have John Watson here in his arms, those soft lips trembling against his. John made the most gorgeous desperate noises against his mouth: gasping in surprise when Jim's tongue slipped past his lips; making a choked off little cry when Jim tugged his hair back so he could deepen the kiss; moaning when Jim encouraged him with wordless crooning to suck on his tongue. 

"Jim, oh my god, _Jim_ ," he whispered before he drew back to take in a shaky breath. Jim clasped him close, one hand sweeping protectively over the small of his back.

"Are you all right with this?" Jim murmured. He shifted to suck at John's earlobe at the same time he let his hand drift down just to the point where the swell of John's arse began. 

John's fingers dug desperately into Jim's shoulder as he huffed out a nervous laugh. "Depends. You're not really going to make me sleep on the couch in the end after everything that's happened tonight, are you?" 

Jim scratched a fingernail lightly down the nape of John's neck just to watch him shiver. "I wouldn't do that," he murmured, pulling John back in his arms. "I wouldn't do a thing you don't want tonight. So if what you want is to be with me, well." He held him tight enough that if John was attempting to move away, he would find he'd have to struggle and fight for it.

But John merely clung firmly to him in return, that strength in his compact body tugging them closer as he fisted handfuls of Jim's t-shirt in his grasp. 

For a moment they simply stood embracing, saying nothing. When John shook a little, Jim let himself tremble slightly in return. It wasn't far off the mark for him, really, to show a little upwelling of emotion. The fiercely thrilling prospect of having John not just for now but quite possibly from that moment on electrified him from head to toe. 

"Do you know, I don't think I actually could turn you away," Jim said softly, his voice unsteady. "Not tonight. Not ever. In fact, I don't know if I'll ever be able to let you go. I want you too much, love."

At this John Watson's vulnerable face crumpled in sheer relief. He choked out a wordless assent when Jim brushed a kiss against his lips and stumbled along eagerly when Jim took his hand to lead him to the bedroom.

*~*~*~*~*

Tangled in the bedclothes beside Jim, his exposed back bare-skinned and golden in the early morning sunlight, John murmured something incomprehensible. 

He stirred for only a moment before he curled on his side, turned toward Jim like a moth seeking light and heat.

Jim lightly stroked his fingertips through John's sleep-mussed hair until John's breathing evened out again. Then he texted _Absolutely NOT today_ one-handed on the mobile he had stashed under the mattress during the night. 

_Has to be today. Must act quickly._ , Sebastian's reply came swiftly. 

_Oh you, with your "has to" and "must"! Who exactly do you think is in charge of this little operation?_

There was a pause before Sebastian's next answer. 

_I strongly recommend we proceed this afternoon._

_That's a bit more like it, my dear. Don't forget that Daddy signs the cheques around here._

Meanwhile, John shifted in his sleep until he lay on his stomach. Jim watched his movements with fascination, his hand holding the mobile completely still, at the ready to hide the device again. Perhaps he wouldn't, though. John would have to be exposed to greater transparency soon enough. It might be time to start.

Then John gave a little grunt, wriggling slowly and enticingly as he adjusted himself before falling more deeply into sleep. Jim grinned and closed his eyes, reaching out to skim a hand down that sun-warmed skin and rest it just above John's lovely little arse covered only by the tantalizing drape of the rumpled sheets. 

When his mobile vibrated again, he huffed and glared at the screen. 

_Confirm you'll be on the scene today at usual time_.

A beat went by.

 _Please_ Sebastian texted. 

Jim nearly laughed aloud to imagine Sebastian looking blank and cool as usual but probably furious at having to make nice just when all their plans were about to come to fruition. 

_Hmm, sadly, noooooo. Perhaps it would smooth any ruffled feathers and calm suspicions before the finale._ Jim hit send and made Sebastian wait a few seconds before he continued. _But just think how dramatic it will make our dénouement [coding] if we teach our little lesson this evening!_

He glanced at John and added _Besides, I have some domestic duties I'd quite like to attend to._ He reached over to drift his fingertips back and forth over John's soft skin at the small of his back. 

_New proposed time. Thirty two minutes past the official door locking._ Sebastian proposed.

 _It's a date! See you there!_ Jim signed off, locking the mobile before returning it to its hiding place. 

He waited a moment more before he stretched and groaned like someone just swimming to the surface of full consciousness. 

"Mmph," John grunted, struggling up from sleep. "Whazzat?" 

"Shh, love; you don't have to wake up just yet," Jim soothed him.

"Hmm?" John raised his head, blinking drowsily at Jim. He licked his lips, looking as if he were about to let his head fall and sink back into slumber. Then his eyes widened. "Oh!" All at once his face flushed crimson. 

The night before had probably passed in something of a blur for John. It was the first time he'd done anything like that, he'd confessed to Jim in a shaky voice as Jim eased them both out of their clothing and set about kissing and stroking him to frantic distraction. 

Jim had heard things like that before. Fair point, he'd sometimes _paid_ to hear things like that before. But oh, how charming when it was the truth, the certainty of it plain as anything in that lovely quavering voice? 

Jim had kept their pace desperate. He wouldn't have been able to contain himself, frankly, even if he had wanted. Getting to caress John, to scrape his teeth gently along that golden skin, to pin him down and work them both into a frenzy; it was glorious, something Jim wanted to etch into his memory to replay whenever he pleased.

By the time Jim had both of their cocks gathered in his slick grip, John's hips were working prettily, curving and flexing in a series of helpless little thrusts and enticing twists. Jim swallowed nearly every one of his small desperate cries and moans, taking them as his due. 

As John began to gasp and buck, Jim had leaned down to lick a stripe up John's chest before nibbling those sweet pink nipples. He'd wrenched himself back from the edge so he'd be able to watch avidly as John cried out and came undone beneath him. Then as John fumbled through clumsy touches, clutching Jim's hips and helplessly digging his fingernails into Jim's back, Jim thrust hard against John's gorgeous oversensitive prick. 

When he came, eyes fixed on John's lax flushed face, he reared back slightly to spend on John's cock, his quivering little belly, all over where the blush fanned out across his compact muscular chest. 

They'd cleaned off with flannels, John already half asleep while Jim murmured endearments and promises he very much intended to keep. 

"Last night," John began in the light of the morning streaming through Jim's window. "I --" He cleared his throat and looked at Jim earnestly. "Thank you," he said in a near whisper. His eyes flickered over Jim's face, trying to read his expression. "Was I -- was it -- okay?"

"Okay?" Jim repeated, drawing John to him and arranging him to drape over Jim's chest where Jim could easily nip at his shoulder and draw his fingers down the curve of John's spine. "Love, it was incredible. To know that I'm the first one you've been with that way -- I'm honored."

John gave a jerky embarrassed nod, a quick smile flashing over his lips brighter than any ray of sun. 

"God, it's Monday, though, isn't it?" he said a moment later, the realization flitting over his face in the faintest impression of a pout. "What time is it? I've got to get to school --"

"Not today, no," Jim said gently. 

John licked his lips. "But --"

"I'll go in, of course," Jim said soothingly, stroking along John's back, up and down to soothe him. "But I think with your parents and sister probably out you should pick up a few things at your house. I'll leave my keys with you so you can get back in to the flat. Will they be gone for the day?"

John nodded, looking partly troubled and partly excited. "So you really do want me -- here, I mean. You're okay with me staying?"

"Darling, I can barely think about letting you out of my sight! Of course I want you to stay." He turned a little, arranging them so they were facing one another with their arms slung around each other. "That is, if you're all right with staying with me? I wouldn't want you to think -- there are other options, if this isn't what you want."

John laughed, a clear giddy sound. "I don't think I've ever wanted anything more."

"Good," Jim murmured, drawing John close and mouthing at his throat right against the pulse. "That's so good, John."

John breathed in and out heavily when Jim moved to kiss just under his jawline before sucking on his Adam's apple. "That feels good," he whispered.

"I want to make you feel good," Jim said, his voice low. "All the ways you've imagined. Loads of ways you've never even thought of yet." He slipped a bit lower, rubbing his cheek against John's chest, against that smattering of dark golden hairs, before flicking his tongue across one adorable little pink nipple. 

John made a surprised sound, arching slightly into Jim's mouth, tangling his fingers into Jim's hair. 

"Won't you have to leave soon, if you need to catch the bus?" John asked with some effort once Jim was nosing at the soft tiny swell of his belly and worrying the skin gently between his teeth. 

"Hmm," Jim murmured, breathing in deeply at one spot, then another. John smelled like the two of them from last night despite the quick rote cleaning they had done, like delicious furtive sex layered on sweet innocence. He'd have to make sure John took a shower before going anywhere. If he didn't, anyone who knew what they were about would take one look at him and find him as utterly irresistible as Jim did. That obviously mustn't happen; Jim simply couldn't abide anyone even thinking of touching what was his. 

"Thought I'd take my mate's car again," he said when John started to squirm. He dipped his tongue into John's navel and blew on the damp skin lightly. "Plenty of time that way."

"Oh," John replied as if in agreement. But his sound was a quick little gasp of excitement more than a proper word. Jim grinned as he nuzzled lower until he had ready access to John's stiff cock. 

When Jim took that pretty prick into his mouth John's hands fluttered around his shoulders and at his hair, as if he were unsure where to rest them. 

"Anywhere, love," Jim told him, moving lower to mouth at John's scrotum where it was drawn up gorgeously flushed and tight. 

When John hesitated again, Jim tugged his hands to rest atop his head, and then slipped his own hands underneath John's arse. At John's sharply indrawn breath, he clutched at the soft skin, kneading and massaging a little to get his fingers closer to that sensitive opening. 

Not yet. But oh yes, there would be time later, now that he had John all to himself. Jim moaned around John's cock as he imagined John panting on his hands and knees, arching his body in shocked little motions counterpoint to Jim driving inside him, thrusting backwards to take all of Jim's cock. Or no, he would lie sprawled on his back, his blue eyes wide with surprise, his voice choked with a mix of discomfort and pleasure as he fumbled his hand down to touch where they were joined. Either way, John would come completely and utterly apart, and Jim would always be the one to put him back together.

"Christ," John breathed out. He clutched Jim's hair tightly now that Jim encouraged by pressing back with his head (Jim always did like a bit of hair pulling; let him know he was doing a proper job of it) his hips rolling and jerking up in stuttered excitement. 

Jim shoved John's legs up a bit, encouraging his knees to bend and feet to flatten against the mattress. On the next slide down John's cock, his mouth gliding in a tight hot wet "o", he stroked the mere tip of one careful finger across that little sensitive opening.

"Please, oh my god, I'm going to -- Jim, Jim," John called, tugging Jim's hair in half warning and half ecstatic abandon. "You don't have to," he struggled to say, his voice going hoarse and his slim thighs quivering as he edged ever closer.

"I want to; I want all of you," Jim told him in a half-growl before sliding back down and pulling all the way off with a pop, repeating over and over. 

John thrashed in the sheets and let out a fervid agonized cry before his hips jerked through the tremors of his orgasm. 

Jim swallowed, catching the very last hit of semen just on his tongue to roll the taste round his mouth before he drank it down.

"That was amazing," John said in a reverent voice.

Jim stroked him softly and began to kiss his way back up his flushed body. "I wish I could take the day off as well, keep making you feel like that for hours and hours." 

"Oh!" John half-rose on his forearms squinting without his glasses on so he could peer downward at Jim's body cradled against his. "But I would want to --" John blushed prettily. "I want to make you feel good too." 

Jim flashed him a wide grin. "Plenty of time for that."

John kissed him as soon as Jim came close enough, clutching him fiercely and delving into his mouth with enthusiasm despite how disagreeable the taste must have seemed to a naïve little thing like him at first. He rolled them so that he sprawled on top of Jim, making an incoherent excited noise as he felt the hot press of Jim's erection pressed against his thigh. 

"Please, can I try it now?" John asked eagerly. "It won't make you late?"

Jim massaged John's broad shoulders and gave him a devilish smile. "Oh, I think I can more than justify being slightly tardy to school so I can teach you something _really_ important."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just two more chapters after this one! I'll update with the next installment on Monday. Please review. :) And thank you so much to everyone who has already left comments or kudos; I appreciate it more than I can say.


	8. Chapter 8

John roused himself just before Jim left a half hour later. He padded into the living room wearing only his boxers, t-shirt, and his smudged taped glasses to watch Jim depart. 

Jim gave him a fond smile as he flung a scarf around his neck, internally adding to his mental check-list that they ought to see about getting John contacts. Shame to let his view of those pretty blue eyes be in any way obscured. 

"So I'll meet you back here later. After I go to get some of my things back at the house." John crossed his arms, looking a little nervous.

"Yes. I'll come straight away after work -- oh, but I nearly forgot! First I'll have to drop off my mate's car. Then I'll have to take the bus home from there." Once Jim added in an excuse about having to wait for a bus that wasn't already bursting with passengers, that would more than account for the amount of time he needed to tie up loose ends on his current project tonight. 

"Yeah, all right." John shifted, clearly more uncomfortable now than he had been just a moment ago.

"You said your family wouldn't be there during school hours, remember? It will be fine when you go to fetch your things," Jim assured him. It had damn well better be; Jim had already alerted his people to make certain none of the other Watsons were anywhere near the home while John ventured inside. 

"Yeah, I know. It's just. The car, the one your mate lent you." 

Jim gave John a mildly inquisitive look back, though inside he was avidly curious to hear how this might go. John hadn't questioned Jim about Sebastian's presence after they had left his home; no surprise, perhaps, with the way things had unfolded between them soon after. Still, even the overwhelming events of last night couldn't have kept them from the matter for long. He hadn't expected John to bring up the topic that morning, though, not after they were both still languid and affectionate after their tumble. But then John was forever surprising him in the best sorts of ways. 

"Why was he with you last night?" John asked in a rush. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he looked a little startled. "No, that's not what I -- what I meant to ask was: why were the two of you even there with the car, in the neighborhood where I live? How did you decide to come round?" He looked expectantly at Jim, but before Jim could open his mouth to answer John rushed to add, "But since I asked about your friend, I might as well ask about where I know him from. Because I've seen him somewhere before, maybe at the coffee shop, or from somewhere round the school." John set his jaw firmly and met Jim's eyes with a direct gaze. "Haven't I?" 

"Have you?" Jim returned, letting his brow furrow a tiny bit to show he was perplexed. Maybe John had noticed more than he'd let on ages ago, back at the alley near the school where those stupid little thugs had tried to hurt him. "I suppose it's possible. Small town, after all! But I wouldn't know if you'd met him before or not. As for why we were there, well." He let his gaze drop to the ground and ran a hand through his hair. "Ever since the time I was with you in the nurse's office, I've worried a bit about your, erm, home situation." He gave an obvious swallow to show how hesitant he felt bringing up the topic. "You said a few things that roused my suspicions that maybe things weren't as they ought to be with your parents."

When John's eyes widened, Jim hastened to continue. "Then the very next day, I saw bruises on your wrists. I don't think anyone else noticed, mind you, but I did, just a glimpse. It bothered me more than I can say. After we went and saw the film together, I couldn't help but stop by your neighborhood some nights when I had a spare moment. I was just, I don't know, imagining if anything went wrong, maybe I could be there and help somehow." He shrugged. "Silly, I know. Except it turned out not to be, didn't it? I'd apologize for seeming a little overbearing or, I don't know, I guess it could seem slightly obsessive--" 

"How could it seem obsessive if you noticed enough to want to help me when no one else ever did?" John asked fiercely. 

Jim let his expression turn pained. "No one else did?"

John's laugh was bitter. "No one's ever put it together. Not a damn one of my teachers once said anything to me, anyway." 

"Well, Miller said --" Jim hesitated.

"What? What did he say? When?"

Jim shook his head, making sure to seem reluctant. "It was the very first day you and I spoke alone, just beforehand. He said you had problems at home, but he didn't say what specifically."

"You know, that's even worse?" John said as if to himself. "I always thought none of them could tell, or we moved around too much for anyone to begin to figure it out. But if they knew something was wrong and didn't give enough of a fuck to do anything, god." He inhaled and exhaled slowly to calm himself. "But you did." He gazed at Jim, his blue eyes transforming from unhappy to shining, earnest. "You noticed me. You cared enough to see what was really going on." 

"I couldn't help it," Jim told him softly. "It wasn't why I was meant to be there, obviously. But I can't help but think it's the best thing that's come out of my time at that miserable little school."

John looked a little surprised and laughed slightly. "I thought you liked teaching."

"Oh, I like it very much indeed when I find a student worth my time." Jim winked, and John laughed again even as he blushed. "But speaking of teaching, I really had better leave right now so I can make it in time. I'll see you tonight?" He darted forward to press a quick kiss against John's lips.

"Wait, your mobile," John blurted when Jim opened the door. "You wouldn't want to forget that." 

Jim glanced to the side table and blinked. It took him a second to recognize the cheap device he carried about at the school. Terribly inconvenient to work with something so primitive, really, but he needed it so he could flourish about a model that fit the part, as well as to give a harmless number out to marks like Molly or to the overbearing gaggle of instructors who supervised the teaching assistants.

"Right. Yes! Good thing you spotted it. Tonight, then?" He tucked the mobile into his shoulder bag and blew John a kiss before he trotted out.

*~*~*~*~*

"Yes, obviously," Jim snapped when one of his regular minions Sebastian had rounded up confirmed a key point of their plan. "I do wish all of you would keep up in the first place instead of needing to check on every little fucking thing!"

The man made no reply but his expression tightened before he turned away to his task of setting up the scope of his rifle.

Sebastian said nothing but a moment later took Jim aside. "They know how to handle it," he said in a low voice, jerking his head to indicate the team of men stationed at their designated spots. "Everything is in place, and they're well aware of their roles."

"Ugh, you're right, I know it!" Jim shoved his hands in the pockets of his fine suit trousers and gave a little shrug. "Sometimes I just like to shout a bit to get some of the pre-game jitters out. You must have some method to vent the stress of it all as well. What's your secret? A brief but profound meditation in that skull of yours, while you stand there looking wooden and muscular? Maybe you recite complicated mathematical sequences in your head while you scan the area for the best limbs to break first?" When Sebastian predictably failed to react to his goading, he sighed heavily. "It's hard being a perfectionist, it truly is. I only want everything to be just so."

"It will be. You have my word."

"Ah, well, for what _that's_ worth," Jim sniffed. "Oh, don't look like that," he continued, rolling his eyes even though Sebastian only regarded him evenly. "I've very nearly forgiven you for your little slip-up over at the Watson place, which is awfully big of me when you violated my one very simple directive on that front." He shook his finger at Sebastian to scold him. "Yes, you were a great help with taking care of the messy business at the end with our new friend, but letting it all happen in the first place!" He tutted disapprovingly. 

Sebastian stood, stoic. Jim so appreciated that he didn't whinge about how David Watson's vicious bullying of his son was utterly beyond his reach. They both knew he would blame Sebastian for it only for, well. However long he wished, actually. 

"Still, I won't forget how you earned those points at the end," he mused. "Go on, then. Dazzle me a little more with tales of your fine work." He clasped his hands under his chin and asked, "Will Pere Watson be able to walk today?"

"Not easily," Sebastian allowed.

"Good, good," Jim said, delighted. "I do hope there's evidence of that for me to enjoy later."

Sebastian inclined his head slightly, and Jim squeezed his hands tighter together in anticipation. No doubt there were detailed photographs and perhaps even audio recordings. "He understands he doesn't get any second chances? That he's not to lay a hand on his wife again, stupid coward though she is, nor that disgusting slag of his daughter?"

Sebastian gave him a brisk nod. 

"Now that's exactly what Daddy likes to hear." He grinned at Sebastian. "Lovely. If all goes well today, really, I'd say you're back in my good books once again. If that's not incentive to execute this flawlessly, I don't know what is!"

"Everything will go as planned." 

Jim dropped his teasing and his smile, acknowledging Sebastian's assurance with a cool stare. He needn't poke his bear for fun now anyway, not when there was a great deal more amusement just waiting to be had with the resolution of their little project. "Excellent. Well, we've our team in place, and all the players seem to have arrived. Shall we?"

Sebastian gestured for Jim to go first.

"Such a gentleman," Jim simpered before striding off at a rapid clip. After all, the sooner they could put their little plan into action and wrap it up, the sooner he could get home to John.

*~*~*~*~*

It was the work of only a few moments to pick the classroom door's lock. With Sebastian paused at the ready in the corridor behind him, Jim threw the door open with a bang, causing the little clutch of those gathered inside to startle obviously.

He swept the room with his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. His targets were gathered in a funny misshapen little circle of chairs, just as though they were a gaggle of students performing assigned group work or a bevy of parents invited in to meet about the curriculum. 

A quick check confirmed they were all present. The first three Jim knew all too well: the English senior instructor, Miller; the nurse De Quincy who had patched up John the day he'd been set on by bullies; the Chemistry instructor, Flanders (the only one of the lot deserving of maybe half an ounce of pity, as she had to mentor that dull dolt Molly Hooper). Then there sat two others Jim only knew of only from the files Sebastian's grunts had put together: a tedious simpleton who worked in the front office called Fran Perkins, and a thick-set cantankerous looking man, the night custodian Peter Cooper.

All of them were sat at the front of the room leaning together in a conspiratorial cohort, obviously in the middle of some or other negotiation. At first they were the very picture of astonishment at having been interrupted, but their gaping mouths and wide eyes soon gave way to expressions of heightened wariness and smoldering suspicion. Flanders evidently gathered her wits about her faster than the rest. She reached for a large ledger open on a close-by desk, and, keeping her eyes trained on Jim's face, eased it closed with deliberate care.

"Oh, would you look at that, a ledger! In this day and age!" Jim shook his head. "How adorable." 

"Mr Moriarty," Miller said evenly. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, _am_ I interrupting?" Jim touched the fingertips of his right hand to his heart and then let his knuckles stroke down slowly to show off the lapel of his expensive suit jacket. "Bother, wouldn't you know I'd be late to our very first consultation? Me, who prides himself on being early!"

"Whatever you think you are walking into, I can tell you right now that this is not an open meeting," De Quincy said, stern and furious. "You ought to leave at once." She tugged irritably at the cheap cardigan covering her nurse's uniform and turned to Miller with a hard look, clearly expecting him to clear up this little snag.

"Isn't it?" Jim frowned and took a few steps forward. He patted his pockets and withdrew a piece of paper. "I must have misread the memorandum." He peered down at the page and pursed his lips. "Because the message I got seemed to say I was running the show from now on."

While Perkins shot a worried glance to the phlegmatic appearing Flanders, Miller cleared his throat and got to his feet. "Jim," he began with a frown, pausing to get his bearings before continuing. "Though you shouldn't be on school grounds after hours without having cleared it with one of the senior staff first, at least now I can see you're all right." He moved forward, subtly positioning himself between Jim and the rest of the group. "You never phoned in to tell anyone you wouldn't be reporting to the school today for your duties, which, as I'm sure you well know, is both expected and required. Of course I was quite worried, and had Fran here leave several messages inquiring after you."

"That's awfully sweet of you," Jim murmured. "I really didn't know you cared so much." He batted his eyelashes at Miller and sent a wide smile Perkins's way over Miller's shoulder. She frowned uncomfortably at his leering and quickly looked away. 

"Yes, well. It may be you thought to come round this evening and explain yourself in person." Though he would likely have hidden it capably from anyone even slightly less keen-eyed than Jim, underneath Miller's customary calm and courteous expression a slow burning fury was beginning to simmer. "You obviously forgot I wouldn't typically be here at this time; that you caught me here tonight was purely serendipitous." His tone hardened as he went on with the slightest twinge of regret: "But as I'm sure you _do_ recall, the procedure for letting the senior instructors know about your absences or any personal time you need is quite clear --"

"It really is," Jim agreed, ignoring the way Miller stiffened at the interruption. He brushed a bit of non-existent lint from his jacket sleeve and examined the slight sheen of his buffed, manicured nails. "You've outdone yourselves with your procedures and protocols, making certain that everything that takes place in the school is exactly as it should be. Really, you ought to be commended for the way you have the rules and regulations laid out -- particularly the unwritten ones!" He cocked his head to the side in a thoughtful pose. "But then it _would_ be awkward to actually write down a code outlining standard procedures for this little drug ring you're running, wouldn't it?" 

When most of the group shifted in surprise, Jim gave an exaggerated gasp before he momentarily covered his hand with his mouth. "Oh dear. Seems I've let the secret out, haven't I?"

For a moment a hush pervaded the room. 

"None of us have to listen to such patently false and heinous accusations from the likes of you," De Quincy said, her normally smug face twisted in a vicious expression. 

Miller raised one of his hands slightly, the exact way he did in his classroom to call chattering students to attention. De Quincy scowled but fell silent. 

"Jim, I don't know what's happened to you. But from the odd things you're saying it seems clear to me you're not at all well. Not only did you fail to turn up to work when you were expected, something I'm quite sure a conscientious young man like you would never have done before today, but now you're spouting absurdly provocative claims." Miller sighed as if disappointed and worried both. "I can only assume you've been under a strain that has somehow misled you to form false conclusions. Unfortunate though such a thing would be, I'd far rather believe that's the case than imagine you throwing out outrageous accusations for a lark."

Miller briefly glanced over his shoulder at Cooper, who hadn't budged an inch from his pose: meaty arms crossed in front of his barrel chest and thick thighs spread arrogantly. "Whatever your particular problems are right now, under the circumstances I think it's for the best if Mr Cooper sees you home tonight." 

As Miller resumed regarding him with a mix of steely determination and false concern, Cooper joined in with his beady eyes narrowed on Jim. 

Jim sighed. He absolutely hated it when ordinary people thought they could mask their crudely obvious intentions with amateurish play-acting. "I suppose it's true that I haven't been feeling like myself of late," he said at last into the quiet, momentarily shifting his gaze to stare at his shoes.

"Of course you haven't," Miller said soothingly. His voice gained confidence as he went on, his words increasingly gentle. "Cooper will help get you home, and you can take the rest of the night to calm yourself. Then tomorrow, if you report to my classroom thirty minutes early, we'll take the time to sort out all the details of what was an obviously necessary absence today."

Jim gulped and nodded, looking abashed. But just as some of them appeared to relax slightly, easing tightly furled fists or letting out surreptitiously held breaths, he shook his head and laughed aloud. "Oh, wouldn't you all just adore that? Me leaving with your bulldog Cooper to get my pretty little head bashed in like a broken eggshell? That way you could easily continue these naughty little shenanigans with your homemade concoctions undeterred. Problem is, I'm rather attached to my head." He smoothed his hair and smiled winsomely before he let his grin grow into something far more predatory. "Besides, I actually haven't any problem with you imbeciles keeping on with your shenanigans. But things can't continue on as they have been, obviously. For starters, you'll all be working for me from now on."

"Is he serious?" Flanders asked, her calm voice threaded with an edge of harshness.

The group of them had tensed once more. Jim noted how Cooper's hand strayed to his side, twitching for something concealed at the back waist of his trousers. Just catching a glimpse of the gun metal glinting above his cheap leatherette cardboard belt made Jim roll his eyes.

"Let's see, where shall we start?" Jim asked, his eyes wide, beginning a slow stroll around their awkwardly circled chairs. He made sure to pause behind Cooper, who stilled and slowly moved his arm back where it had been before. "Maybe with how you lot managed to launch and maintain a drug ring, supplying the youth of this fine community, many of them former or even current students, with illegal substances? Or should we focus on the miraculous way you succeeded in fattening your purses without getting caught out by authorities or shaken down by a far more powerful outfit? For a group of arrogant idiots who bumbled onto a goldmine without a clue as to how to run it long term, you've done quite well for yourselves." He shook his head at them with a counterfeited fondness as if they were a group of charming little toddlers who had come up with something unexpectedly clever. "Really, I almost think the first order of business after I accept the reins of this sorry little operation is to hand round commendations, don't you? Or at the very least give out gold stars!" He stooped slightly, rounding his shoulders to put his hands on his knees as if bending down to exclaim praises to a group of children. "How would all of you like that?"

The nurse got to her feet, the glower on her face making her screwed up features even uglier. "I don't know what you think you're playing at, Mr Moriarty. Taking aim at those who could easily end your career before it's properly begun isn't wise. I suppose you're compromised, in some sort of trouble and quite desperate to dig yourself out however you can. But since you seem to be unaware of it, let me tell you bandying about serious accusations like these just to distract from your own mistakes, whatever they might be, will most assuredly backfire." 

"Will it?" he asked, tapping his lower lip with his forefinger as if considering her words. "Hmm, I don't think so, actually. Because while the group of you have been enlisting the school bullies as your runners in this venture, using equipment pilfered from the sciences department to whip up solutions that are anything but, as they say, _street legal_ , and gleefully counting out neat little piles of notes to secret away behind the wall in the custodial cupboard -- oh, did you imagine I hadn't sussed out your hiding place? -- I've been following your tracks very closely indeed, gathering enough evidence to make your simple little heads spin."

At the mention of the money stashed in the custodial cupboard, Cooper's sluggishly mulish expression for the first time changed to something that approached alarm. His dull-eyed gaze snapped to Miller as if watching agitatedly for a signal for what to do next. 

"Even if you really believed that these ugly claims were true, you're still talking a load of shit," Flanders said fiercely. She ignored Jim's elated grin (he did so love it when those who fancied themselves imperturbable lost their tempers). "Whatever you think you know, you obviously haven't a jot of proof --"

"Don't I, though?" Jim snapped his fingers and Sebastian eased into the room, carrying a stack of slim folders. Without further instruction, he handed them round to the teachers sitting tensely in their seats, ignoring their glares and blanches at this newcomer before giving the last of the lot to the still-standing Miller. 

Hesitantly, one of them opened a folder to examine the sheaf of papers inside. Another soon followed suit.

A moment later, the group exploded, talking over each other with angry invectives and accusations.

"Which one of you bastards thought you could just turn the rest of us in?" Cooper shouted.

"Who let this fucking poof get his hands on our files?" De Quincy demanded in fury. "There's absolutely no way he could have found these things out on his own."

Flanders clutched the large ledger to her chest protectively. "He's obviously been breaking into our computers, and listening in at closed doors, but he must have had help! Because who is he? I mean, he's _nobody_ \--"

"Christ, Christ, he knows all about it," Perkins blurted frantically, her voice full of dread. "What's going to happen now?"

"If you think you can just turn us in," Flanders sputtered directly to Jim, now brandishing the ledger before her as if it was a protective shield. 

"Turn you in? I'd never!" Jim exclaimed with his features properly aghast at the prospect. "Besides, didn't I say I'd be running the show from now on? Honestly, I should think you'd be glad of it! If you want to grow this little business to its fullest potential, you'll soon be able to see the advantages of my little takeover, hostile though it might be." He winked at the rest when he saw Perkins let her head drop into her hands in evident despair. 

"You, take over?" Miller asked, his voice flat. 

The others ceased their fretful muttering for a moment and turned to look to him with varying degrees of hopeful expectation on their faces. It was absurd, really, how much they let on that they'd be entirely lost in this venture if Miller wasn't in charge. 

"Even if you think you've gathered evidence enough to hurt us and leave a hole to worm yourself into, how do you propose to do such a thing? You'll run into a great deal of trouble when you come up against the protection and back-up we have in place. Ah," he added with satisfaction when Jim frowned at the last bit. "Your lucky stint at digging up information wouldn't have uncovered that, now, would it?"

De Quincy let out a triumphant little snort at Miller's disdainful words. Though Flanders remained on guard, her teeth clenched, Perkins looked rather pathetically relieved at this turn of events and went so far as to join in with a titter. Even Peter Cooper let out an ugly heavy chuckle. 

Jim tilted his head from side to side, grimacing a little in reaction. "Well, you might think it wouldn't have. But it really did. You sorted things out with a fellow by the name of Neil Cooper, eh?"

Fran Perkins paled while that poor thug Peter Cooper sat stunned, his heavy jaw fallen open. 

"Funny little outfit he has going, or should I say had going," Jim continued as he strolled further away from Cooper to the other side of their sorry misshapen circle of chairs. 

At the other side of the room, Sebastian slouched against the wall. From the way the rest of them had their eyes glued to Jim, at least a few of them had forgotten his presence for the moment. 

"Oh, they weren't bad in their way," Jim went on, "Plenty of good old-fashioned direct threats and violence; I go a different route myself, but who doesn't love the classics? But Neil didn't hand over nearly enough remuneration for his crew. If I told you the offers I made to the ones I fancied keeping round, you wouldn't be surprised at all how readily they jumped ship to my team, bringing some lovely information along with them. Still, I've found a place for Neil to thank him for a favor, just as I'll find places for all of you if you're clever enough to play nice."

When Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, Jim swerved his focus to him. The thick-set fool actually cringed, but Jim dismissed his openly fearful posture with a flippant gesture. "Yes, yes, you needn't cower so. I've already found out he's your cousin, obviously. There's no other way this group would have let the likes of you in on the largesse from their clever plan had you not come equipped with something like this to offer!" 

He openly regarded the lot of them with a sneer. "Certainly there's no other way the rest of you might have contacted someone so resourceful and found themselves with an ally instead of an invader. It ought to have been a delightful arrangement for everyone concerned. But as it happens, your Neil and I have a friend in common, and that's drawn us rather close together. Well, when I say _friend_ ," Jim paused, shrugging. "Anyway, it's why he's still involved instead of --" He made a playful slashing motion at his throat. "Shame it had to happen this way at all, isn't it? Family should come first, I know! But here we are."

Their composure eroded even more, a few of them slumping or shooting worried glances at Miller.

"So we're to take this all on your word, are we?" Miller spat at him, the rage building inside just barely banked. His eyes narrowed and shifted to Cooper almost imperceptibly, and he gave the subtlest of nods. 

Jim gave a giddy shake of his head when Cooper reached for his gun. "Oh, no you don't, thicky!" 

Sebastian had already stepped up silently, and now he confiscated Cooper's gun and discharged the chamber. He pocketed the magazine and kicked the gun out of the way under the large teacher's desk at the front of the room. His fingers flexed the slightest amount, but Jim raised an eyebrow and he stilled. The message was clear: _don't draw your own gun yet; don't call the snipers into play just now. Wait for my signal_. 

Instead, Sebastian abruptly yanked Cooper back in a headlock, tipping him precariously on the back two legs of his chair and, judging by the way the fool slowly began to turn red, gradually cutting off his air supply. 

"Everyone's always forgetting Sebastian," Jim told Fran Perkins sadly when she gasped at the display. "It's what makes him so useful to me, but it must be rather discouraging to him all the same, don't you think? I imagine it can feel a bit lonely, being so underestimated."

Cooper made an utterly pathetic whimpering sound. Some of the ugly splotches on his ruddy face had already begun to purple. 

"Well, there's your local enforcer down for the count," Jim told the rest of them. "And now Cooper -- the proper one, I mean, not this imbecile -- and his gang are out of it. Ready to make a deal?" He spread his arms out and grinned. "Go ahead: start offering me ridiculous things out of pure desperation!" 

With a quick move that Jim spied out of the corner of his eye, Miller rushed to grab Jim, tugging him back with a surprisingly strong arm wrapped around his torso, trapping both of Jim's arms in the process. Jim went still and then slightly limp as if in shock, leaning against Miller's chin digging into the back of his head. 

"I find I don't have the patience to listen to you natter on anymore," Miller said, breathing heavily.

"Aww, and here I thought you enjoyed all of our little chats," Jim replied breathlessly. "So what now? You're just going to hold me still? Do you think your bit of rough can take out my man and then hustle me off to do me in?"

"No. That option went off the table a while ago." There was a click of a safety being released and Miller pressed a gun against Jim's temple. 

Just that cold steely touch was enough to tell Jim he felt the mouth of the gun directly on him, no silencer. He suppressed a sigh at being forced to deal with such rank amateurs, and instead exclaimed, "Well, would you look at that? There's a bit of spirit in you yet! Willing to get your hands dirty after all?" 

The shocked faces of the others told him plainly this sort of maneuver had never been in their shared play book. Flanders and De Quincy looked genuinely stunned, while Perkins, the little moron, began snuffling like a child. Jim had already guessed Miller had been keeping more than just his ownership of a pistol from the rest of them; it would be _such_ fun if a few of these dolts were just now realizing the same thing. 

"Call off your friend," Miller said coldly.

Across the room, Sebastian made a show of setting Cooper's chair fully onto the floor and relinquishing his hold. Despite letting go, he didn't back away entirely; instead he retreated to a stride away from Cooper. The flare of his nostrils at Jim plainly communicated what he thought: now was the time to show the force of snipers they had at the ready by revealing their sights on everyone present. When the corners of Jim's lips twitched down in refusal, Sebastian's right shoulder tightened. Obviously he didn't like how this was unfolding. Well, that was too fucking bad, because Jim was still the one in control, and he had a card or two left he wanted to play.

"Bill, no," De Quincy said sharply. "It's one thing to have Cooper -- but you -- and on school grounds, where anyone could hear the gunshot and find all of us quickly. I don't think --"

"Oh, it's fine for me to take the little ponce away and kill him, is it?" Cooper interrupted, disgruntled and huffy now that he could breathe once more. Jim would lay good money on the odds he had probably only just caught up to what was happening. "But Bill might have to shoot someone and straight away everyone says, _oh, no, he mustn't_!"

"Don't think," Miller snapped at Flanders (entirely ignoring Cooper, who slumped in a resentful posture). "You're not the one in charge here." 

"Like I keep telling you all, I'm the one in charge," Jim interrupted.

"You don't look it," De Quincy said flatly, nodding to the gun trained on Jim's temple. 

"Yes, well, looks can be deceiving," Jim said, rolling his eyes.

When the door suddenly banged open again, a few of them jumped. The gun slid slightly on Jim's temple and then righted itself; quite lucky for Jim, he thought abstractly, that Miller wasn't quite so easily startled as the rest. 

Then, in perhaps the biggest surprise that Jim could have imagined, John Watson skidded into the room, breathing hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long chapter with lots happening and of course ending in a very tidy fashion... *sneaks away until Thursday when the final part will be posted* 
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts and reactions. Please review!


	9. Chapter 9

Any sounds or talk around them fell away at the sudden roar of blood in Jim's ears. For a moment he saw nothing and nobody else in the room aside from John standing just inside the doorway. A strange surge curled in his belly, a mix of marvel and the first tendril of pure fear he had felt in ages. He only realized his jaw had dropped in astonishment when someone else made a surprised sound and he thought to shut his mouth.

It was _marvelous_ John was here. He'd surprised Jim once again with his resourcefulness (how the hell had he even known where Jim would be?) and his loyalty (however he'd learned Jim's location, he'd rushed there to be at his side).

But Christ, it was _terrible_ John was here. The danger Jim scoffed at made him reel when he thought of John being threatened. If he should lose him in the scuffle of this fucking ridiculous little scheme -- the idea of it hit Jim's gut like a ball of icy lead.

At a glance he took in Sebastian's steady stare and ready stance, saw him scan the room coolly and reorient himself slightly. His pinky twitched, the tiniest gesture of his readiness to signal the team. Clearly Sebastian was prepared to order the snipers to fire in seconds and pull out his own gun if necessary. It was enough to make Jim want to croon out his approval, seeing those tells that Sebastian realized John was Jim's priority one. But this obviously wasn't the moment. Instead Jim took a slow even breath and trained his eyes on John, making sure to look shocked and helpless where he stood with Miller looming behind him. 

"Oh god," John blurted, taking in the grim faces of the teachers, eyes flickering urgently over Jim in his fine suit, expression going slack and horrified when he spotted Miller's pistol aimed at Jim's head.

"This doesn't concern you, Watson," De Quincy gritted out from her chair, gripping the sides of the seat with white knuckles. "Get out of here, and do it now!" If Jim had been free to react as he wished, he might have done a double take at this unexpected show of genuine concern. 

"Nurse De Quincy is right. Watson, you shouldn't be here," Miller added after a moment. His voice sounded even, calm: the sort of tone he might have used months ago to tell John Watson that yes, it was quite all right if he wanted to use the English classroom during free time to get away from his bullying classmates. "Whatever you think you've happened upon concerning Mr Moriarty, it has nothing to do with you." 

But John stood with his fists clenched, glaring at Miller with hatred in his eyes. "No," he said, low and clipped. Jim felt a flash of pride at the back of his mind at the evidence of how quickly John had recovered from his initial shock. "If it's to do with Mr Moriarty, then it's everything to do with me."

Miller's grip on Jim's arms tightened slightly.

"Now see here," Cooper blustered to De Quincy, obviously several steps behind the rest once more. "We can't just let the boy leave. Have you gone mental? No, he can't take one step outside this room before we find out what he knows!"

"Shut it, Cooper," Flanders muttered; her eyes were fixed on Miller. 

"John," Jim began, his eyes wide and fearful. "I know you may not like what you're hearing, but please, listen. You should just go. I don't want you to get involved in this." He strained slightly against Miller, and the desired effect was immediately produced: Miller jabbed the gun harder at Jim's temple, making him wince at the pressure.

John swore under his breath, and before anyone could add another word, he had a gun in his hand pointed at Miller.

Perkins let out a rather thrilling high-pitched scream. 

As Miller stiffened behind Jim, John stood capably, his aim steady, his body alert. That concerned uncle must have been the one to teach him to handle a gun, Jim reflected with a frisson of pleasure as he watched John's solid bearing. Either that, or John had taken his practice with his father's illegal firearms, one of which he'd no doubt decided to fetch when he'd gone back to his house for his things. Just full of wonderful surprises, that one. 

"Step away from Jim," John said calmly. "Or I'll shoot."

"Oh, it's 'Jim' now, is it?" De Quincy murmured to herself. Her gaze shot to Jim, who gave her a small sheepish frown when she looked at him with disgust. He'd been right about her; she was too clever by half. 

"John," Jim began. The eyes in the room flew to him, perhaps imagining he was going to make another plea for John to leave. But instead, "How did you find me?" Jim asked, genuinely curious.

"Your mobile," John said in distraction (though his aim never wavered). "Your other one, I mean -- the real one, I expect." He shrugged slightly. "From the texts -- I figured out something serious would be happening here. I couldn't let you face whatever it was without me."

"Clever boy," Jim murmured. 

"You're not upset?" John asked, keeping his eyes trained on his target. "That I looked at something private of yours?"

Jim cocked his head. Perhaps one day they would have a talk about certain things Jim intended to keep for his eyes alone; lord knew John would need to be introduced gradually to the more unsavoury bits of the business. But for now it was difficult to summon any dissatisfaction when Jim felt only a fierce sort of triumph that John had rushed to be by his side. "How could I be upset when one of the most loyal men I've ever had the pleasure to know has chosen to help me?"

Even as his expression stayed determined, his gaze focused on Miller, a rush of blood bloomed in John's cheeks as he flushed at the praise. 

"Watson," Flanders cut in, sounding calmer than Jim might have expected under the circumstances. "I don't know what this man has told you or promised you to make you close to him. But he's nothing but trouble."

"He's the worst sort," Perkins put in fearfully. 

"If you think you know him well, he's likely used you," Flanders added, her voice shrewd. "He's forced himself into the middle of something that has nothing to do with him. He probably only pretended to grow close to you to see if you had information that could help him do it."

"Oh, please," Jim scoffed. "John had nothing to do with any of this. You lot practically handed me the information by being so careless. In fact, I might have left off surveying this operation ages ago and brought in my men to take over. But everyone in this fetid little hellhole was doing such a piss-poor job of making sure that John was well looked after that I stuck around."

"You stayed for me?" John asked. His eyes looked dazed as they rested briefly on Jim before returning to Miller. "I'm not pretending to understand what's happening, exactly, but -- you could have left whatever is going on here and you stayed. Just for me." He swallowed. "Why?"

"Ah, well, who can fathom what the heart wants?" Jim asked. But though he'd repeated the phrase his mother had so often used by rote, his voice was deadly serious. 

"You think you'll do any better by him?" Miller asked, tightening his hold around Jim. 

"It's none of your fucking business," John said in a low bitter voice. "Now let him go!"

"He's a filthy pervert, Watson," Miller shouted, his control finally slipping. "Never mind his talk of hearts and those pleas to save yourself. He's had his sights on you almost the entire time he pretended he was a teacher here. Oh, he tried to convince me it was all innocence, but this only proves it never was!"

There was the merest vibrating movement of the gun resting against Jim's temple; as he'd begun to speak, Miller's hand had started to shake. 

Across the room, Sebastian subtly moved from one leg to the other once; for him it was very nearly fidgeting. To Jim it read like a frantic motion, and he agreed with the sentiment behind it: he couldn't put off signaling for the snipers much longer. 

"Watson, your Mr Moriarty is a drug-dealer," De Quincy said suddenly. Amusing as a last-ditch effort, yes; an annoying snarl in the proceedings, also yes. 

"Ugh, pot, _kettle_ ," Jim told her in a warning voice after the barest hesitation. Really, there was no point in denying it outright now; any fabrications belying the situation had more or less already frayed away by this point. It was past time for him to start to bring John in, at any rate. "Besides, that's not all I do, not by half."

"Don't sacrifice your future for a man who doesn't care for anyone but himself," Miller shouted; his spittle brushed Jim's ear with the rush of his angry words. "He's fucking scum who will only ever ruin your life!" His arm flexed and tightened; he shifted his weight slightly. Jim felt his customary amused calm in a crisis wash over him; no doubt if nothing intervened, the shot would come in a moment. 

"Jim Moriarty," John replied, enunciating each syllable distinctly, "is the best thing ever to happen to me."

Then John pulled the trigger.

Behind Jim, there was a surprised grunt and a thump as Miller fell to the ground, a hole in his head right between his eyes. When Jim glanced coolly over his shoulder to view the body, he saw the blackboard with the day's assignment scrawled across it spattered with blood. 

"Jesus Christ," a woman's voice blurted out. Probably De Quincy, but Jim hadn't an ounce of interest in watching anyone's reaction besides John's. 

"Crack shot," Jim murmured as he turned back to face the others.

John's gaze snapped to him. Just for a moment he looked calm, stoic, every bit the young soldier he could be if he liked. Then his face crumpled with fear and unhappiness.

"Sshh, it's all right, love; please, let me help," Jim murmured, low and lilting. He took a step forward, and then another.

John lowered his gun -- Sebastian was beside him, unobtrusive, to take it carefully from his hand before it fell -- and rushed into Jim's outspread arms with a shuddering sigh and trembling shoulders. 

"Darling. You're all right," Jim whispered into the feather-light brush of that golden hair. 

Someone let out a keening wail; Jim could see over John's shoulder that Miller's blood had spattered against Flanders and the ledger she still clutched to her chest. 

Around them, Jim's men quickly and quietly rushed in to run interference and begin to take over the scene. John didn't take note of their entry at all as Sebastian wordlessly directed them. Instead he clung close to Jim, hands fisted in Jim's jacket, face buried against Jim's neck.

"Somebody, I don't care what you want from us, but we need to get that man help," De Quincy said, her sharp voice shaking. "Miller will die otherwise!"

"He was going to kill you," John muttered, fingers tightening and drawing Jim even closer. Close by, Perkins yelped as one of the men tugged her to her feet and secured her wrists, but John's blue eyes fixed intently on Jim's face didn't betray that he'd registered the scuffle at all. 

"I know he would have, love. And you saved me. I owe you the world, now, don't I?" Jim laughed lightly and stroked John's silky hair when John made a small desperate sound. "It's all right; I was going to give it to you anyway." 

"All of them?" Sebastian interrupted. He stood close enough to speak without raising his voice but still remained a respectful distance away.

"Keep Chemistry and Nursie," Jim said in a soothing undertone so as not to worry John. Flanders and De Quincy were already being tugged away, both of their expressions grim. "Might as well use their knowledge and connections. That one also, at least for now," he continued, pointing at Perkins, who froze in place where she had been struggling. "We'll see if she can come aboard without too much fuss; I like that she's already positioned. Of course, if she can't play well with others--" He shrugged. 

"What about the tough?"

Jim pursed his lips and shook his head ever so slightly; the likes of Peter Cooper was of absolutely no use to him.

"Let me go," Cooper bellowed, finding his voice again as someone dragged him to his feet. 

"Come along, love," Jim murmured at John as he led him from the room. "You, call the cleaners," he advised Sebastian before letting a flicker of a grin cross his face. He gazed briefly at the sludgy gore dripping from the blackboard and at Cooper's terrified face. "I'm afraid we're about to leave even more of a mess, and the usual man won't be available to scrub up."

*~*~*~*~*

John was quiet and pliant as Jim led him out a side door and through an alley where the car complete with a driver attendant behind a darkened sound-proof barrier awaited them. Sebastian and the rest of his men would depart after Sebastian declared the all-clear. They would find their way back on their own. 

It wasn't until they had pulled away and turned several corners, the quiet hum of the motor the only sound around them, that John roused himself enough to turn to Jim.

Jim nodded at him in encouragement as soon as John's lips parted hesitantly, questions clear on that tense face. "Whatever you need," Jim said in a low soothing voice. "Don't worry about getting it all straight now; we'll work out the details later. But whatever you want to ask now, go ahead." 

John pulled back a little, his expression full of yearning. "I don't understand everything that's happened, but." He drew in a shaky breath. "I -- the main thing I need to know --"

Jim braced himself for any number of queries, about the web of his own now obvious untruths, about what the hell had just happened back there with John's instructors, or even about where on earth they were headed next now that John had just killed a man. "Yes?"

John gave him a wary nod and visibly composed himself. He raised his gaze to look Jim in the eye and asked, "Your mate. That -- Sebastian. Are you -- the two of you -- you're not _with_ him, are you?"

It took a moment for Jim to realize what John was asking. 

"Never have been," he answered slowly. "Never wanted to be." He almost kept back, but couldn't resist running a soothing touch down John's arm. 

"I just wasn't sure," John said in a rush, unwittingly already leaning toward Jim. "He's been with you, those different times, and you seem to rely on him so much -- I thought maybe there might have been something more."

Sweet Christ, wasn't that utterly delightful? Not the insecurity, but the thread of fierce possessiveness running through John's stumbling explanation of why he had wondered.

"Sebastian and I have a strictly professional relationship," Jim reassured him with a slight smile. "Nothing like what I have -- what I _want_ \-- with you."

"Right," John said softly, still seeming guarded. "Thing is, I've never had anything like this with anyone before." He hesitated. "I know you've probably been with other blokes, but have you ever --"

"Had someone I intended to keep the way I do you?" Jim asked. He smiled. "No. I think you'll find you're the only one for me, John Watson."

John swallowed, and Jim followed the little pulse of that Adam's apple working his throat with his eyes; the next time, when they hadn't just gunned down a few stooges and fled a crime scene, he'd follow it with his fingertips, with his tongue. 

"I believe you, about Sebastian, I do," John went on, half speaking to himself. "I just don't -- why me?" He looked pained as he spoke, as if voicing something he desperately wanted to keep hidden but felt compelled to get into the open, that brave, brilliant boy. "I'm nothing special, and you're -- you're not exactly someone average from what I can tell." His left cheek sucked in slightly, like he was biting it nervously inside his mouth. 

"Don't you say that," Jim put in fiercely. "Never imply you're some nobody, some ordinary person who doesn't matter. Because you matter to me completely." When John looked back at him, stunned, Jim continued, "And I'll tell you right now, love, I don't mind spending all the time in the world proving it to you."

Those gorgeous blue eyes began to shine with hope. "I don't understand it," John said, still looking a bit dazed. Then he exhaled a shaky breath and gave a tremulous shy smile. "But I feel the same about you. So. That's good. I think."

"Oh John," Jim murmured, reaching out to cup John's cheek in his hand. He grinned when John's eyelashes fluttered, fiercely delighted at finding that strength in John's body and heart softened and vulnerable for him alone. He tipped John's chin up for a kiss and whispered, "It's wonderful," against those sweet lips.

*~*~*~* The End *~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. As I'm updating with this final chapter, I feel so fortunate to have had such lovely interactions with readers along the way. I'm grateful for every kudos and comment. Now that the fic is complete, I would love to hear what you think of the story as a whole. Thanks for letting me share.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Someone to notice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356088) by [Draw_me_something](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draw_me_something/pseuds/Draw_me_something)




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